


In A Darker World

by DishwashPhilosopher



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adult Education Centre, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ba Sing Se, Ba Sing Se University, Does Aang have to save the world?, First Canon Compliant, Omashu, Politically Charged, Sailing, There Is War In Ba Sing Se, Trigger Warning for depression, Trigger warning for anxiety, Yakuza, printing press
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 171,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DishwashPhilosopher/pseuds/DishwashPhilosopher
Summary: SI/OC insert. The whole rebirth shebang never really interested me, until I was involved. As a waterbender during the Siege of the North with the memories of my past life, things go quite differently than in canon. Some things though, stay exactly (frustratingly) the same.Fair warning: Not much humour, mostly dark themes, social critique. Originally Posted on ffnet.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> SI/OC INSERT  
> Reborn in Northern Water Tribe, 83 AG (same as Zuko)  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Avatar Series, anything you recognise is obviously not mine, some of the dialogue is taken directly from the transcripts and the episodes it belongs to will be listed at the beginning of every chapter  
> [Changes: Princess Yue is just a few months older than in canon, so that her birthday doesn't fall together with the New Moon Celebration ; Hahn is a bit OOC ; obviously, there will be more, simply because the OC exists and interacts with the characters]
> 
> Just a friendly reminder that the Trigger Warnings are there for a reason, even if it is only apparrent why later.

The whole rebirth shebang never really interested me, until I was involved. I never thought much about what happens after. I’d hoped I’d get another chance at getting things right, sure, but I figured it’d be in my own world. Or, at the very least, the same universe.

The beginning was bleak, cold, ever cold, and filled with long periods of unconsciousness.

The language was rather tricky to master, although I picked up on it quickly enough to understand basic concepts such as food, mother, father and naptime. Only then did I find out that my parents had named me Kaito.

It took me what I think passes for about six months to figure out where I was.

It’s not every day that someone mentions the Avatar. The Last Airbender Avatar. Took me a while to wrap my head around that one. What a bedtime story, eh?

There is a tradition in the Northern Watertribe for when a child first starts walking. Testing the limits, so to speak. No one could have known that it was not the lure of sweets that got me walking, but instead the burning desire to move of my own volition. That they were there was a fortunate addition and the reason for my choice in direction. To be autonomous once more when all I could do for the longest time was to rely on the two people known to me as my new set of parents. (As though such a thing could ever be exchangeable.)

No one could understand how it felt to finally be able to run except for perhaps someone who had been chained for a very long time. Stumbling as my gait was, I was not surprised to find my face well-acquainted with the icy ground that was our home. But the understanding that I lived on thick ice brought to me a completely new feeling of understanding the world as a large unknown. I could now choose to view it as an adventure, or a scary thing.

Having been terrified my entire early life and finally running again after so long, I decided to leave that fear behind.

I could not live terrified of being dropped at any moment, of the incompetence of others and their power over my life so long as I remained this small any longer. I would take the reigns into my own hands so to speak.

Another astounding revelation was that I’m apparently a bender. Which is just super cool. It’s like a superpower and who doesn’t want one of those? The only people who want to be normal are those who’ve never been average or ordinary.

Bending, in a way that I can’t explain very well, is like extending your senses beyond your body and imposing your will upon the element. For this, you need to be able to not only grasp what the element is at its base, but also merge with it, until you and the element are one.

I found out about my ability through pure chance. (Although I admit, I have started to believe in higher powers. Rebirth will do that to you.) I was toddling along behind my mother, on our way to the market, when the bridge we were crossing suddenly cracked. Through a miracle, my mother was thrown forwards, to safety, but I? Well, I got ready to experience the worst cold of my so far short life.

I plunged into the water, icy cold invading my clothes, freezing my brain for a second. I began to paddle, remembering how to swim, even though my body didn’t, but the furs I wore proved too heavy. I admit, I panicked. Maybe this was the universe telling me, ‘nu-uh, you might’ve slipped through the cracks once, but we’re rectifying the mistake’.

Part of my mind rebelled violently against the possibility. Why the fuck was I made to drown here? Fuck, no. I’d never been very complacent, so if I could do something to change things, I wouldn’t bloody well start lying down and taking it now.

Something that is clear to me now, in retrospect, is that bending water is both calm and the storm. You have to be both. Yin and Yang, ebb and flow. Knowing I’d drown in the next minute, if I didn’t do anything, I was both accepting of the fact and not.  
And that was when I felt it. My desire not to drown, my acknowledgement of the possibility, it played together in a way that allowed me to realise that if I just twisted right here, pulled and then pushed, I’d live. So, I gathered the water beneath me with sluggish motions, swept my arms low, then high.

I was catapulted out of the water and sailed in a tall arc to safety.

The landing was painful on the ice. I skidded a few metres on my shoulder and leg, sliding farther than I’d have liked, wet as I was, before thumping against an obstacle. My mother was with me instantly, frantic and calling for a healer. Then I passed out.  
Later that night, when I was shivering in my furs near the hearth, my father Hotaka told me a waterbending Master would visit in a few days, to see if I could be taught. He was clearly very proud. It set off a warm feeling beneath my breastbone. I never even thought about how my parents felt towards me, because their love was evident, but in that moment, I realised that, just like in my old life, I would strive to please my parents. It made me feel all warm and cosy when they were proud of me, and I decided I wanted more of that. I would take what happiness I could get in this life. No take-backsies.

Now, not to hate on a clearly well-respected and intelligent individual, but from what I remember from the series, Katara’s impression of Pakku being a prick was entirely correct. He didn’t like me much, I could see it from the start.  
He thought I’d be a true brat, too young to take anything seriously. He wasn’t wrong. While I was aware of social graces more than any child my age should be, I was happy to ignore them.

For Pakku, there was also the fact to consider that I managed to form a water tendril at first try when he asked it of me. I promptly used it to splash about, just to spite him. He smothered it with a few gestures to calm the water, like a dignified individual. He just looked at me very sternly, but I was unrepentant.

In the following years he would try and beat my insolence out of me, but never succeed. What can I say? I’m stubborn, it’s part of my charm. It all comes down to enjoying myself here. Enjoying life before it ends (again).

He had two other students who were older than myself, one close to becoming a Master himself, Hiraku, the other about ten years old, Katsuo. Neither liked me much. I was too unruly, too disrespectful without being disrespectful and they hated that Pakku seemed to tolerate it, even though he didn’t go easy on me. They got over it. Mostly.

In any case, I was called a prodigy. And prodigy I was. A little shit of one, though.

My mother tried desperately to teach me manners and all that jazz, and I did learn. Well enough to get away with most of my cheekiness; well enough to get away with it with Pakku, so I must’ve done alright. Though my father outwardly despaired with my mother, he secretly thought I was hilarious. He was a warrior and they are all about discipline and honour et cetera, but they know how to have fun.

Sometimes, Hotaka would bring me with him to training and teach me some moves, or let me watch some spars. I was pretty good at whatever he taught me. Partly because as a bender, I had to be able to control my body perfectly, but also because I remember some of the Aikido I did back when I was still in my fist life. His buddies liked me just as well as my father and their brats were of a mind with myself when it came to annoying the shit out of stern-faced council elders and the like. Soon I led small attacks on the council chambers, utilising their skill-sets to get the most hilarity out of our pranks.

All in all, life was good.

Until I met Yue. That was the worst day of my life.

Most of the events weren’t even my fault. (Unless you consider everything that is somehow connected to my birth my fault, which, taking that further would mean everything is everyone’s fault, simply for existing, living and breathing.)

I was about ten years old, on the run from an enraged orderly and being chased by some of the warriors currently close by, when this cluster of people appeared form around the corner. I managed to avoid them by surfing up the wall above their heads and sped on. The looks on people’s faces when I do the unexpected are my favourites. I crossed several courtyards with pretty fountains and made my way towards the main canal where I’d be able to lose my pursuers in the crowd. I’d spend the night at a friend’s place, as was protocol by now, having left my parents a note. Rarely did they bother to scold me any longer.

The thing was, my move had been anticipated by the warriors and I only barely managed to avoid the one waiting for me by surfing across the smaller canal. That had been what I’d intended, at least. A longboat was blocking my path. I decided to go over.

Only, I miscalculated again and landed on the edge of the boat instead of the ice plate I’d formed in preparation for my manoeuvre. The boat tipped… and spilt its passengers into the canal.

Not including me. I faceplanted into my ice plate.

Bloodied nose or not, I was a bender and I was responsible for this, so I fished the two people, a man and a girl, out with ease, got all the water off of them and prepared to run, when Pakku showed up. Which was how I ended up before the chief. On my knees, apologising. Because it was his daughter I’d dumped in the canal.

It all wouldn’t have been so bad, if Pakku hadn’t threatened to stop teaching me and to make sure no other Masters would teach me if I continued to be such a major pain in his arse. He didn’t use those words, but with how often he threw the words ‘embarrassment’, ‘unruly’ and ‘irresponsible’ out there, I got the impression that that was what he would’ve been saying if he wasn’t so proper. Of course, because waterbending tricks aren’t so easy to learn on your own in the beginning – believe me, I tried – I acquiesced. I didn’t grovel, because that’d just be so much worse and Pakku wouldn’t believe it for a second, so I pouted a lot and acted like this was a big deal for me to agree to.

Not to be mistaken here, it was. Kind of. But I never put too much stock in my pranks, it was just a funny habit by then. And, I figured, maybe Pakku’d take me on another one of those camping trips where he told me stories of his ancestors and their great deeds. Where I learned to survive in the ice, and feeling out the temperature and aggregate phase of the water around me. If I didn’t comply here, I would never have that again.

Failing as someone’s student would never allow me to become a master. And the greatest freedom within our tribe was only to be had as a master. I made a choice.

All of that didn’t amount to what made it the worst day of my life, though.

My father’s death did that.

A Fire Nation raider killed him while he protected the fishermen he’d been guarding. None made it back. Their bodies were recovered by a routine patrol unit, which I found out was a happy occurrence. Often, people didn’t get to burn their dead appropriately, but were forced to send out a boat with some of their belongings instead.

It… my mother was horrible to look after the following days.

She was devastated. I took over. I fed her, watered her, looked after the house, spoke with the well-wishers, with our extended family and friends. I made the funeral arrangements for my father to be sent out to sea, on a burning boat. I felt out of whack, but I’d had to do all of this before, for a different set of parents. Time flew by in the haze of doing this and that and another thing that needed my attention like irritating flies buzzing around my head that wouldn't be swatted away. In the back of my mind, I realised that this was what it had felt like, being an adult. It was time to step back into those worn-out shoes of a past life.

Pakku wasn’t much different with me. He respected the distance I needed and whenever I trained with him, or his other students, they did not become part of the buzz. They remained as starkly focused within my perception as they ever were.

Especially when Katsuo challenged me to another wall-surfing contest or the like. He would always demand my full attention. And when he did, I allowed my more carefree traits to surface more and more once more.

Once I had settled into things with caring for my near-catatonic mother, I treated Pakku's teachings more seriously, in the sense that I would be required to fight at some point. I hadn’t forgotten about the coming invasion and the Avatar. I’d just pushed it out of my mind. Though with my father’s death, I learned to fight instead of to bend. There is a stark difference between the two.  
Reminded of the harsh reality of this world’s war, I began to experiment with what is possible to do with bending. I’d decided to find the limits and shatter them.

What good was a second life, if I didn’t go beyond what I’d already achieved, after all?

More, even with Pakku’s disapproval, I asked Yugoda to teach me healing. I wasn’t particularly good at it. But I learned how to unblock chi and chakra pathways that I remember that one girlfriend of Azula’s being able to block. I learned how to heal burns and open wounds. Internal damage was harder and at some point I figured enough was enough. Yugoda agreed.

She had a student, Buniq, whom I seemed to have offended somehow. And yet, she agreed to tutor me in some of the less-easily grasped techniques. I did not understand why, until she asked me to reciprocate. This was dangerous. If I was caught teaching her, a woman, to bend and fight I would never become a master. Perhaps I would even serve some kind of sentence that would place me outside of the city almost permanently.

But she was determined. And I was unable to tell her no. The rule-breaker inside of me would always win if presented with an opportunity. It was also the right thing to do, and I was aware that I had been persuaded into it.

I even kept up my sporadic warrior training and I wasn’t half bad with a sword, but bending came so much more naturally. Hahn, the son of the Captain, made sure to remind me of that at almost every turn. He and I had had a kind of amicable rivalry going on since that fateful day when I’d had to promise Pakku to behave. He’d idolised my father for some reason and thought I was a bad excuse for a son. Or something. (That something being his dad being a wonderful example for a man who would use the death of his wife as an excuse to hate his offspring and my father had always been kind and fair to Hahn. He’d probably have liked to trade.)

In some misguided notion that I needed to learn patience, Pakku tortured Pai Sho into me. I figure at least I can contact the White Lotus if I’m ever in trouble. I also got the feeling that Pakku felt I needed some more parental guidance. But, at this point, I was probably of an age with him, mentally. So I began to treat him as more of a friend than a teacher. The familiarity of a person who attempted to understand the kind of man he was did his countenance some good, although he rarely showed it.

When I turned fifteen, Pakku decreed I was ready to be my own master. Which would’ve been fine, if I hadn’t been stationed in the palace so often. Yue hated me ever since the incident with the boat, and we did not need to see more of each other.

Yue herself didn’t hate in a very passionate manner, but she was very good at displaying how she felt about me. Her dad and I got along fine, though. I swore never to disclose what happened on Yue’s sixteenth birthday when Arnook and I sat to the side and got drunk. It was hilarious and I will treasure the memory forever. Needless to say, Yue did not like our friendship, but really, what did I care?

Pakku and I still sparred together. He’d grown fond of me over the years, the soft-inside grump. Also, the other masters could hold their own against him, but we both knew I could give him a run for his money, even though he had decades of experience on me. That was largely his doing.

It was after one such spar that I returned home to an empty house. My mother had had an accident, falling and splitting her head open, dead on impact. Which just… I’m glad I wasn’t the one to scrape bits of her brain from the ground.

I had a rough few days after that. Got drunk a lot. Picked fights with Hahn a lot. Steered clear of Pakku and Arnook, though. Didn’t want a pity party. I got one in the form of a neighbouring girl, though, which wasn’t so bad. I forgot for a while what I was doing.

Surprisingly enough, Hahn got me back on track. Broke into my house one night, shooed the girl out of my bed and got me to sober up. Lectured me about spirits know what. (My father, mostly. My responsibilities second mostly. The girl only once.) I told him to go shove it and just propose to Yue, to leave me to it. He did. After he wrangled a promise out of me to live up to my father’s expectations and pride.

Pakku said nothing when I reappeared as though nothing had happened.

Arnook didn’t either, but we shared a drink in my parent’s remembrance.

Yue… well, she was a little more sympathetic, but that was the extent of it.

Life went on. I did my duties, I went on patrols, and I lived.

And then, when I turned seventeen, the Avatar came.


	2. Guards Pretending to Be Teachers

Guard duty for the princess is always just a few hours of relaxation for me. She does her thing, ignoring me, mostly, and I get to people- or cloud watch. On particularly slow days, I practise a bit of surreptitious bending.

It’s astonishing with how much I can get away, so long as there’s someone to take the blame.

On this day, she’s elected to visit the watchtower to the east. It’s one of her favourite spots to go and be silent. It overlooks the ocean, the city itself, and the surrounding tundra. A view that can inspire awe, and fear. It reminds me of the strength of these people of ours, living here. The strength of those without bending to help them along. I imagine Yue feels similarly.

I can’t remember her ever having set foot beyond that tower. Not, while I was her guard, in any case. It’s safe to say that if she had gone, I would have gone with her.

I’m not sure if she’s never asked, or if her father says it’s too dangerous. I only ever leave the city once a month. Usually, if anyone does, it’s for patrolling, or the odd trip to gather herbs for Yugoda. The latter tends to end up being me, because an experienced bender with a bit of knowledge in which herbs to bring back tends to be far more efficient than sending someone who has no clue, or for the old woman to go herself. She’s not the youngest any more, but I have no idea if she’s got anyone in line to be her successor.

If one doesn’t know how to read the landscape, one could quite easily drown in an icy lake when the ice breaks. Some unfortunate souls have died that way, before it was made mandatory to always have a bender with you outside the city walls. Annoying for some, but safer overall. I don’t mind a bit of danger, but if things go… north up there, I’d be very glad for a knowledgeable companion.

In the end it might have to be me who shows Yugoda’s successor the ropes outside the city walls. I won’t mind, if she turns out to be good company.

Pakku used to take me out into the wastes to learn to understand bending better. To see what it means to wield that power. What nature does with it, and what we do with it. How our best results are achieved in tandem. He showed me how waterbenders survived before banding together and erecting this city with its palace and its waterways. I was fascinated, and it was one of those rare occurrences where I could not keep my questions to myself and the most opportune times to get answers.

There were times when settlements bent themselves some shallow canals to keep up trade and exchange. Sometimes sealions would wander in there, and disturb the small canoes on their way down.

The princess and I take her small gondola along the city canals. They were made largely because of defensive structures and pathways for the ice of the city’s buildings to melt into in the summer until a bender can renew the coating. Not many have the privilege making use of the canals. It would be chaos if everyone did, and really only supply transports have permanent permission to use the waterways. If everyone took their own private boat everywhere, no one would get anywhere. Secondly, you need a bender to take you where you want to go.

The Northern Watertribe holds a bit of disdain for those who use rudders inside the city. Or at all, really.

We may currently be governed by a non-bender, but most of the power lies with the benders. And so, their views – our views, I suppose – are the ones that guide the law and constitute the rules of society.

Yue’s and my journey is marked by the odd wave from the sidewalk that I return, and her stoic indifference. There are more people around than usual.

As I propel the little gondola forward, I once again feel nostalgic as we pass the spot where I dumped her in the canal seven years ago.

“Stop laughing,” she demands, never turning her head.

“Yes, princess.” I don’t bother denying it, even though I haven’t made a sound. She, in turn, doesn’t comment on my drawn-out tone, like she used to.

We’ve trained each other well over the years.

Moving around a bend in the canal, we spot the reason for the increase of people along the pavements on either side of the canal. A humongous white-furred animal with people on it is making its way along the canal, sending out ripples with each movement of limbs the size of two of me, hugging.

I’ve never seen a flying bison before, except for in paintings or a cartoon series a lifetime ago. Appa is large. If he weren’t wading in water that must be freezing his huge toes off, he’d stand at twice my height.

The Avatar, sitting cross-legged on his head looks… young. A child with an arrow tattooed on his forehead, mouth stretched wide in a grin that spans his entire face. His eyes flit about, trying to take everything in at once.

Our gazes meet, for a moment, and I send him a wink as we pass. It visibly delights him, and I go about my task with a bit more cheer. Too much, if Yue’s irritated huff is any indication. Well, she wouldn’t be Yue if she didn’t find me irritating, and it wouldn’t be a day of guard-duty if my mood didn't change.

As we pass Appa’s tail, needing three lengths of the boat to move past him and a bit of concentration to keep the small boat steady in the waves his large body sends out, I hear a girl’s voice say: “This place is beautiful,” and a boy’s: “Yeah, she is,” as he stares after an unmoving, stoic Yue.

I decide not to tease her too badly. She heard him as well and a bit of flattery can only be good for her. Not, that she’s not getting compliments left and right. But by now they’re mostly social courtesy, just like people tend to tell me about my own achievements.

“Want to turn around and greet the Avatar?” I drawl, even as we continue to move downstream.

“No,” she decides, “I will only stand around looking pretty at the palace. I can do the same where I have chosen to go.”

Okay, then. She always sounds a bit stuck-up, when she says something like that. After all, this is her personal chance to meet the Avatar, speak to him and make an impression.

But it’s actually that she takes her freedom where she can.

As our princess, she has many rules and traditions to follow. It could be worse. It could also be better.

We leave the city behind, and enter the stretch of water between the wall and the buildings that serves as a second line of defence. A small burst of speed lifts the front of the boat slightly, and one of the princess’ hands grips the edge lightly. I know it both annoys and excites her, whenever I do this.

Living her sheltered life, getting into a boat with me is the most danger she subjects herself to. I enjoy the short moment of fun with a smile.

It’s these small things, in addition to her father’s friendship with me that have her tolerate my placement on her guard rotation.

Must be hard, when your status as princess prevents the people you spend most of your time with from treating you like a person. She is to an extent, even in my eyes, the princess and not simply Yue. After all, I’m literally her guard. It’s a bit hard to forget why we spend time in each other’s vicinity when she’d much rather enjoy strangling me for the fun of it.

Arriving at the stretch of wall that we typically tie our boats to, because this is where it’s been smoothed down to what could double as a mirror from frequent a- and descents, we exit the gondola and, as always, she ignores my helping hand. I fasten the boat next to the other one already there to a hook in the wall that some friendly bender left behind. Then I form the platform that will serve as our elevator with a gesture.

She steps onto it as closely to the wall as she dares. She’s got a bit of a fear of heights, our dear Yue, and instead of doing the kind thing and forming a banister, I let her sweat. It’s mostly teasing, but I do take a bit of joy in causing her discomfort. The pinched look of her face is always delightful.

Besides, she and I both know that if anyone can catch her falling down alongside this wall, it’s me. Katsuo, one of Pakku’s other students and I used to challenge each other to wall-surfing. I was the winner more often than not, which prompted him to improve, and challenge me over and over. Stubborn bugger, that one.

Yue used to be a frequent spectator, along with the rest of the city. It was a big event each time. We stopped when Katsuo became a master. Too undignified for him to challenge someone who was still a student. And by the time I became one myself a few months later, we didn’t really see each other anymore. His places to haunt are the upper ring, and the sons and daughters of councilmembers. Mine are the marketplace, the palace and the wall. At night, it’s the bars, and there we give each other nods, and move on to our respective circles.

Seeing the city shrink away to toy houses beneath us, we rise above, and it becomes apparent that it was carved from the cliffside, this home of ours. Like an extra-dimensional circular biscuit cutter, waterbenders from all over the north pole worked together on a full moon to create this safe haven. A bastion of ice and beauty. I’m always slightly humbled when I see it, and imagine what it must have taken to bend it.

There aren’t any written accounts of that time, which is a shame. There are scrolls on waterbending, and maps. But that’s about it. All historic accounts are delivered in stories told by our elders, or our teachers who show us how to read. We’re literate only to trade properly, and be able to scribble down a message. I managed to get my hands on some of Pakku’s books, which were largely on tactics, and the types of animals living in the ocean. Other than that, I have not needed to read. There was little _to_ read. All my knowledge of this world I have from Pakku and what else I could pick up on on my own.

I slow our ascent in preparation of the gust of wind that always greets us at the top of this wall bracketing the city. It usually tries to force whoever dares climb here back down, but I’ve learned a few tricks along the way. I bend us a bit of protection against that gale, and we walk comfortably to the watchtower. This always reminds me of walking beneath an umbrella in the wind, because it creates the same kind of hair-whipping.

Smoothly, I create an overhang as we reach the tower, and bend us an entrance. One small problem about living in a city created and ruled by waterbenders is that important structures are usually only accessible with a bender. There are no normal doors here.

I don’t mind it, but Yue would probably like it if she could go to her favourite spot on her own. Not, that her father would allow it. I’m not quite sure that she’s crafty enough to escape her efforts. Especially if it’s a known spot she disappears to. But I might not be giving her enough credit.

Inside the tower it’s warmer, but dark. We don’t have torches lining the ice walls.

Yue no longer needs a guiding hand to find the stairs and so I follow her silently. Reaching the door, Yue opens it, just enough to slip through. I follow.

“Princess,” Kesuk, the guard for today greets, knowing her habits well by now. We exchange a nod before he moves to the small hearth to brew her some tea. As a guard, he’s not obligated to do this, but Yue’s nice most days, and our princess besides. So we brew her tea.

The hearth’s a clever construction of metal that doesn’t immediately thaw the ice it comes into contact with. So long as a bender checks it over every once in a while, the tower stands safely. If the fire ever goes out, there is a strongbox sealed with wax to keep the steel and flint inside dry. Every person in the tribe knows how to make a fire, where to light one and where not to. It’s one of the first things we learn as children.

I join Yue in viewing the landscape for a few moments. I used to think that this sight could never really feel like home. So different from the green forests and tall mountains I remember marking my homeland. But now this expanse of ice and snow and sky warms me from the inside. This place is now a picture of my very nature. On the outside, barren, but preserving life beneath the surface.

Water is my essence, and here there is nary a dry spot. Change is everywhere, as I have had to, to survive my ordeal of rebirth.

Kesuk joins us with the steaming tea, and all of us enjoy the companionable silence.

Before long, he and I leave Yue to her musings to play a game of Pai Sho. It’s one of the games we benders can all conjure up. Probably Pakku’s influence at work here. There used to be competitions about who could make the most flawless set in the least amount of time. Pakku won, every time he deigned to participate.

We don’t hold them anymore. Most of those contests went out of fashion when I became a guard for Yue.

“The Avatar arrived today,” he says, prompting me for what I know. Ah, guards, always gossiping. At this point, I probably know less than he thinks he does. There have been many rumours about the Avatar coming from traders a bit south. News like that spreads fast.

“Who do you think will be teaching him?” I ask, confirming the suspicion that he’s here for waterbending training. Although that is pretty obvious. I add a nice engraving to my tiles.

“Pakku,” Kesuk says, decisive, inspecting his work.

“Might. But he’s already got two cute little students.”

“I don’t think numbers would bother that man.” He looks at me then, clearly judging that I was a handful all by myself. I take pride in that it’s widely considered a fact.

I shrug. “True. Don’t think he’d let anyone else have a go?”

“Who’re you thinking of?”

“Dunno. Arrluk, maybe.”

“That old seaking? We’d have a warmonger for an Avatar. No, thank you,” Kesuk grumbles as he considers the board.

What he forgets – wilfully or not – is that we’re currently at war. That’s the north’s folly, I suppose. We’re far enough removed to live comfortably, only the patrols really get a taste of what it’s like for the rest of the world. And even those don’t have frequent encounters with Fire Nation. We still mostly trade with Earthkingdom fishermen and merchants for our oils. The only other people who really seek us out are those who seek our healers.

“Could be entertaining,” I suggest instead of voicing that thought.

“For _you_ , maybe.”

That’s insulting. Well. It isn’t like I haven’t been calling him ignorant in my mind, so I suppose I can let it slide.

Instead of answering, I sigh. Ever since that incident with his older sister he gets prissy with me sometimes. People are sensitive about their siblings’ virtues here.

“So, you’ve seen Pakku’s new brood?” He asks, changing the subject. We’ve had this kind of silence too many times for it to weigh much anymore. Usually, these things die down. At this point, his hostility whenever the topic comes up is mostly out of habit.

“They’re his most perfect little students. So obedient,” I sigh again, with a bit of dramatic wilting of my posture.

Kesuk snorts. “Only you’d think that was a bad thing.”

“Their existence must be so _dull_.”

“We have you to counteract that, don’t we?”

Sharing a grin, we place the last of our stones.

We manage to play two games before Yue comes to sit with us, and the conversation turns to the celebration tonight.

“Think your father will spurgle a bit to impress the Avatar?” I ask, as I put the kettle on. Yue looks a bit chilled. She’s too prideful to ever admit any perceived weakness, but I know the signs well enough.

She thinks on her reply, before answering me in a steady tone of voice. “I couldn’t say. He might for the feast, but I doubt he’ll go beyond that. The Avatar already looked impressed, there won’t be any more effort necessary.”

Kesuk perks up at that, and at the same time shoots me a dirty look for not mentioning that little tidbit. “You’ve met the Avatar already?”

I gift him a smile intended to annoy.

“In passing,” Yue replies, an amused curl to her lips. She’s always found Kesuk’s attitude towards me funny, even though hers used to be much the same, before I was put on her guard rotation.

“What’s he like?”

“Young. And he really does have airbender tattoos.” She sounds like she thought those were entirely fabrications of whomever passed the rumours along.

“How is that possible?” It _is_ surprising, I suppose. All the air nomads, to our knowledge, were murdered.

Yue elects not to answer. If she feels she could only speculate, she leaves the conversation to others.

“I imagine he either escaped the air temples before the siege – genocide,” I grimace at the last word, and look out at the ice, “And somehow lived until now. Or a small group of airbenders evaded the Fire Nation entirely and survived for long enough that the cycle of rebirth went through all the elements until it arrived back at air… With the war going on for a hundred years, it’s possible.”

“But… wouldn’t the tribe have known? There aren’t really any other settlements where waterbenders live in numbers like ours,” Yue says quietly, eyeing my crossed arms. I didn’t realise I moved them.

“You never know,” I say, “And with the raids on the South Pole over the last decades I wouldn’t be surprised if the new Avatar was killed before he could save anyone.”

We’re all silent for a moment, then Kesuk shifts in his seat. “That’d be… then we should’ve-“

He cuts himself off with a glance at Yue. Chances are she’ll be our leader in a few years. Criticising the decisions of her ancestors could end badly for him, if Yue was the type.

She catches the look, of course, and immediately loses all openness to her expression and posture. Before she can tell him something oddly clinical, as she is wont to do, when her position on a matter is precluded, I sigh loudly.

“We might not be here to discuss ifs and whens if the tribe had involved itself in the war. Now that the Avatar is here, we’re able to teach him what he needs to know about waterbending. Chances are, we’ll have no choice about our involvement in any case.”

Yue’s expression is unreadable, and Kesuk looks confused. “Why? I thought the Fire Nation would concentrate on the Earthkingdom first.”

“That won’t matter when the Comet returns,” I say and add the tea leaves to the boiled water.

“The Comet?” Kesuk seems to not have listened to Pakku’s explanation that I’m sure he was there for.

“You know, Sozin’s Comet. The one that returns every hundred years,” I prompt, and there is no recognition on either of their faces. “It’s proximity grants firebenders unimaginable power – ah, that’s not quite right, is it? They murdered every airbender they could find that day with that power. It’s due to return in… a bit less than a year. That’s why the Avatar needs to master all four elements and the Avatar State before then, so that we won’t all die when the Comet arrives. It’s why we’re training more and more benders so young.”

To Kesuk, this is clearly all news to him. His mouth is open, his eyes wide and his fists are clenched.

Yue has gone bone-white, which looks decidedly unhealthy on her skin-tone.

What do they teach kids these days? How to professionally ignore everything your teachers try to relay to you? Then again, their teacher for everything might not have been Pakku. And there is a certain amount of responsibility connected to this knowledge. And much of this I only know because I questioned the way our society is structured. Pakku and I argue a lot.

“Why don’t I know this? No one told me!” Yue busts out, openly angry for the first time in a long while.

“What?” I can barely believe that. Arnook and I have spoken about this a few times. One of the reasons for my early promotion – alongside my capabilities – was to encourage young benders to try their hardest. To learn what they could for when we would hall have to go to war to fight for our continued existence. Classicistic as we may be, we don’t deserve to be annihilated for it. In any case, the Fire Nation’s policies and teachings are far worse than ours – even if it’s no excuse.

“No one. Ever. Told me this! Not my teachers, not my father, not you-“ She stands, agitated, pointing her finger at my chest.

“I, ah… I’m telling you now? I thought you knew. It’s common knowledge among benders and council members,” I say, and with a glance at Kesuk I add, “Usually. It’s just that no one talks about it openly so the children will be spared their childhoods and the civilians don’t go mad.”

“You-“ She turns away abruptly, breathing hard, trying to get herself under control. “I will have to speak to my father about this. Take me to the palace, now!”

I nod, and with a pat to Kesuk’s shoulder, I lead Yue outside, and lower us down the wall faster than ever before with her as my passenger. She stumbles upon our halt, and I catch her wrist before she falls into the water. While I’m usually all for letting people embarrass themselves, even I can tell that this isn’t the time.

I can feel the tremors in her arm and don’t let her go until she’s safely seated in the boat with a white-knuckled grip on the sides. Even as I speed us along the canals I am careful not to spray the pedestrians with ice cold water. All it takes is a bit of a flourish of my wrist at the end of my bending motion, and I do like flourishes. That’s Pakku’s influence. This time, our passage is marked by confused shouts that I ignore.

The palace is teeming with activity, full of people preparing the celebration. Arnook is in the Great Hall, directing workers and their tasks.

He greets us with a smile that fades into confusion the moment he comprehends Yue’s mood. His eyes seek out mine for clarification, and I jerk my head to indicate that they should speak privately. He leads the way to his chambers.

I’m about to close the doors behind them, when Yue calls me inside. “Kaito, come.”

I don’t enjoy being part of this… discussion. This is a family matter, really, and it’s not my place, nor do I want it to be. I’m both their friend, I suppose, and I have no desire to pick sides. So I won’t.

“What’s going on?” Arnook asks.

My view as I enter the room is Yue having crossed her arms, a stormy look on her face, and Arnook standing before her, apprehensive.

“Why haven’t you told me about the Comet?” She bites out.

Arnook’s shoulders drop. “I had… hoped that I wouldn’t have to burden you with the knowledge.”

“Burden! And what, leave me to be ignorant like a child, knowing less than my- my babysitter!”

Her father looks to me for help. “That’s not-“

“It isn’t? Ha! Any time I ask to sit in on a council meeting, you deny me because of this, am I right? I am not a child, father! I’ll be- I’ll be married soon, you can’t- keep me from- from learning how to lead our tribe, how to keep us all _alive_!” He voice rises and becomes shriller with every time she cuts herself off to force the words out. She’s never been all that good with confrontations, but she pushes on.

“Yue,” he says, softly, and it’s entirely the wrong tone to take, at the moment.

“ _He_ told me before _you_ did!” She points at me, but the accusation is for her father alone. “ _Why_ does he know more than I?” It would sound petulant, if it weren’t so obvious that she is honestly confused on the matter, and devastated because of its implications. That he trusts me more. That he believes that I can handle this sort of knowledge and she can’t.

I wince. And continue right on when he speaks, “He’s a capable bender, and he’s proven himself-“

“I never even had the chance to! I’m- I’m coddled and protected, and the only reason I know how to hold a dagger is because Kaito got bored one afternoon and taught me!”

Now it’s my turn to look guilty as Arnook levels a look at me, but at this point I won’t pretend to be sorry. I thought she’d need to know how to defend herself one day, and a dagger is something she can carry beneath her clothes.

He doesn’t stop staring, so I shrug at him. I’m not a diplomat.

“And now somehow he’s- he’s the only one who tells me what goes on? When all he ever does is play pranks, and drink, and-“ She colours, and isn’t that charming?

I’m tempted to prompt her ‘And…?’ But this still isn’t the time.

“I didn’t want… after your mother died… and I’d already almost lost you once, I-“ He cuts himself off. These two…

I should go. I take a step back to give them space, and maybe even make a break for it, but Yue’s hand snatches me wrist before I can get far. Her grip is almost painful.

She doesn’t look at me, but her shoulders tremble. “And your answer was to keep me in the dark about… everything?”

“I was going to tell you. Once you were married, I-“

“What.”

“Well, once you were married, I could-“

“You never intended for me to become chief. That’s what you’re telling me. That, that mother’s wishes are nothing to you?” He voice wavers with the force of her disbelief.

This is the first I’ve heard about her mother’s wishes. Or Arnook’s planning. It seems, we can add misogyny to our list of societal shortcomings. Not much of a surprise.

“I didn’t say that! That’s not at all what I-“

She silences him with a harsh, slashing gesture. “Enough! This- We’re leaving!”

Yue drags me out of the room, and in answer to his pleading look, I nod. I’ll see what I can do to put him in a more favourable light.

She ignores the looks we’re getting, dragging me behind her, clearly upset, and to any who know her, ready to tear up. This is not a small thing. She has a right to feel the way she does, especially if Arnook always made her feel that she would be the tribe’s leader one day. If her assumptions about the true nature of her engagement are true, Arnook is not the man I think he is.

The Spirit Oasis is our destination, and she slows to a stop at the entrance, breathes a deep breath, and tugs me inside behind her.

Her forcefulness is very uncharacteristic of her usual poised behaviour.

She goes to kneel before the pond, and forces me to do the same, if I don’t want to yank myself free. I sit with crossed legs, instead.

‘Hello, Tui and La,’ I think, ‘How much experience have you with agitated prncesses?’ less than me, probably.

I resolve to let her begin the conversation. Anything I say will sound wrong, at this point.

“How-“ her voice is thick with unspilled tears. No doubt her throat feels like it’s closing up.

“Why…”

She turns her eyes on me, watery and devastated. Oh fuck. I am not equipped to handle this. Not well.

No words. Those will- I don’t know. They’re not what’s needed.

Slowly, projecting my intentions so that she can move away if she wants to, I hug her. It feels awkward, and stilted, and clearly I’ve not hugged enough people since- since my mother. Well. Double fuck.

Sex is easy. It’s familiar, movement, and never quite still. This is just painfully weird.

She must feel awkward, too, because she shifts, until we’re properly pressed together, and her head is in the crook of my neck. I’m properly holding her now, and she feels so small, and delicate, and she’s trembling.

“It’s…” I slowly lift a hand to stroke her hair, “It’ll be alright, I think.”

She huffs, “You think? Spirits, no wonder you’re always such an arse if this is what being kind does to you.”

I sigh. At least she’s not close to stuttering any more. I set my chin on top of her head.

“Stop that.”

“Mmmno.”

She shifts her head to look up at me, glaring. Alright, she’s back. This worked out better than expected.

“Stop smirking.”

I’m positive that my mouth was not doing anything like what she’s accusing me of. Sighing, I resign myself to our familiar exchange, “Yes, princess.”

Her mouth twists downwards. “Princess,” she repeats, flatly. “Is that what I am?”

My arms still holding her up, I shrug. “To me, yes.”

“Wonderful. Nothing’s changed for you, huh?”

“I guess not. You’re still the princess, the future leader of this tribe, and my personal pain in the-“

She hits me.

“Ow,” I state, and get whacked up the backside of my head for my troubles.

“You moron! You’re just like my father! Both stupid, and selfish, and drunk!”

“Hey. I’m not drunk.”

“Right, but you will be, tonight! You’re like, like mirrors of each other! Deciding what’s good for me, and what isn’t, and never telling me anything!” She leaves me no opportunity for protest as she rants. “And he’s kept me in the dark for so long, going on about marriage when I could’ve been helping to protect the tribe! Marriage! When it could all end so soon!”

“Better to have someone lined up, just in case,” I wonder whether it does her any good if I reiterate the motivations behind Arnook’s encouraging her to choose Hahn as her intended.

“What?” She blinks, slowly. I’m sure the implications are already dawning on her, and she just wants to be sure that I said what she thinks I did.

“Well. We might all die. And we might not. But if your father ends up as one of the dead, we need someone to look to. You _know_ how the people are, how the benders are, the council. They will hardly listen to you alone. You need someone respected by your side. Hahn is, with the warriors, just that. With my support for your union you have half the benders on your side, and the other half because of Pakku who has always supported your father. That leaves the civilians, who adore you. Think about it. With Hahn, you are in perfect position to take over the tribe.”

“…What?”

I let go of her and let myself fall on my back. Sigh. “Politics, princess,” I run a hand down my face and stare up at the night sky. “Our society is built on opinions of powerful people, and the people themselves.”

She kicks me, not too gently.

“Ow. I was trying to be nice, here, princess. Show me some appreciation,” I drawl, and roll to evade another kick.

Now comfortably back in my own private bubble of space, I can relax. Spirits, this girl is more than a handful. Good luck to you Hahn, although you might not be the one she decides on, after all. I think of Sokka. He’d worship the ground she walks on, the idiot.

“You fail,” she states.

“Huh?”

“You fail at being nice.”

“Great.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You know what!”

“I… do?”

“Arrgh! That’s it! I’ll rule the tribe on my own one day! And you’ll have to stop being such an idiot then! I’ll make it a law!”

“I hereby command thy to never be an idiot again, Kaito, son of Hotaka! So it shall be henceforth!”

I am not prepared for the shawl that whacks me in the face.

.

The Avatar, I think as I watch his amazed face at Pakku and his student’s performance for the New Moon Celebration, is a twelve-year-old child.

The world’s hopes rest on his slim shoulders and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. I’m aware, always was aware, that he’s younger than I am mentally. Maybe even physically if I don’t count the hundred years he spent encased in ice. But seeing him flit about, well, he’s just like I used to be when I was ten. Maybe a little more carefree, even. The poor kid. He has everyone’s hopes riding on his back, just because the Avatar was traditionally a peacemaker.

Mine, too, as worried as I am about that fact.

Although he probably doesn’t want any pity, it’s what I feel for him. I wouldn’t want to be the Avatar. The funny thing about responsibility is that it is never easy to define where it begins. I would argue that those who are not responsible for themselves are akin to children, or slaves. But does that make us all into slaves of the Avatar?

I’m aware that in the end, to stop Firelord and Fire Nation, Aang will have to step up, regardless of whether we are slaves or not.

That does not mean that I couldn’t extend a helping hand. In what form, I don’t know yet. I know of the invasion to come. If I were to remain here, in the North afterwards I might be able to build up a fort capable of withstanding a siege. I might be able to build a fleet of elite fighters who could take on the Fire Nation Navy by itself.

Those are, of course, fantasies. But they are possible, and so I would call them latent dreams.

However, too much hinges on this first point of contact with me and the story I once knew. Too much has cast this life into sharp relief for me to want to rely on vague memories of plotlines. Today has made it once more abundantly clear.

Reliance always makes dependent, which leads to compliance and eventually, weakness.

We’re not weak. Yet.

As I lounge against the far back of the wall, it occurs to me that the looks the Southern Watertribe boy is sending Yue must make Hahn’s blood boil. Yes, he looks like he wants to break the boy’s face in. He bears it with dignity. It does make him look like an arrogant prick, though. Then again, it isn’t like that would be a false impression to have of Hahn.

And Yue… well, she no longer looks like she holds the world’s injustice in her hands like a sword to brandish at her father and the council members. I wonder sometimes if when she looks out from that tower of hers, if she wishes she could just run away. Now her mind is preoccupied with the future and while deciding she’ll do as she pleases from now on is admirable, that does not include marital life.

Poor Hahn. He knows none of this. He believes she enjoys his company just as much as he does hers. Then again, I don’t know what Yue even does with company that she enjoys.

Desperate for another train of thought, I cast my eyes about the hall. It was a very delicate hand that decorated it for tonight. I would guess it was Yuzuki. He’s always been the most artistic of my generation.

He stands beside the waterfall with Buniq, in what looks like a deep conversation. Well. That’s a match I would not have foreseen. Well then, to give them some privacy, I look for another entertaining image.

Ah, the Avatar and Pakku are being introduced.

Pakku, I note, is being his humble self and will be very popular, I’m sure. He strides off like the stuck-up man he is and I decide to intercept where the Avatar can see. I don’t need to hover within Yue’s eyesight, at this point. There is no one in her vicinity who I would suspect of wanting to harm her. Especially not with Hahn’s eyes on her.

There is no sense in having the Avatar think Pakku’s as strict as he portrays himself. Where’d we end up, if he took everything at face value? The Avatar should perhaps be gently guided into healthy suspicion of others.

“Pakku, wonderful display earlier. Very synchronised,” I say, as I sling an arm across his shoulders. He shoots me a haughty look and stays silent, bony shoulders stiff beneath the thick padding of his coat. I think it is very unlikely that he could be nervous about teaching the Avatar, but…

“How long did you have to practise that for them to fall in line today?” I prod, and finally, a response. He never does like it when I belittle his students. No one can do that but him, apparently.

He shrugs my arm off and drafts a disapproving facial expression that has never worked on me. I don’t see why he still puts it on. “I do not appreciate your insinuations.”

I smirk and pat his shoulder, “Sure, sure.”

His upper lip twitches. He hates that I’m taller than him now. That, or he’s fully aware of what I’m doing. “What do you want?”

Well, straight to the point tonight, are we? “Don’t be too hard on him and his friend, yeah? And remember that you didn’t kick up too much of a fuss when I went and learned from Yugoda.”

“I do not kick up fusses, Kaito,” he says imperiously and his eyes flick towards the two Southern Watertribe kids. “And why bring it up now? You never wanted to speak of it before. To speak of it now is almost improper.”

I decide to ignore the helpful tip on etiquette and lean forward as if about to disclose a secret. He frowns, but doesn’t lean back. “The girl’s a spitfire. She won’t be backing down easily, Pakku.”

Then I wink at him, enjoy his open-mouthed face for a second and amble off towards the section where Arnook is being all prim and proper.

Someone has to step in and stop this tragedy. With a bit of prodding he shares his drink, which is much better than what I had earlier.

“How is she?” he asks, eyes on his drink as he swirls it in his cup.

“Determined.”

“To…?”

“Become the chief on her own merits. Without…” I glance at where she’s speaking with Sokka, “Marriage to someone politically advantageous.”

“That isn’t what I hoped Hahn would be for her,” he shoots me a sharp glance.

“I know that. But he’s not someone she could love at the moment, since he represents everything she dislikes, or thinks she dislikes,” I state meaningfully to look at Yue and her suitor.

“You think she’ll…?”

I shrug. “She might. But definitely not with Hahn. Which is a pity, you know? He loves her,” I tell this to my cup before downing it.

“I do,” Arnook answers with a sigh. “I thought when she dragged you to me earlier that you and her…”

“What?” My eyes flicker to his profile and I see that he’s teasing. “Spirits, no,” I laugh at his cautioning stare, “She’d kill me within the first week.”

“You’ve been on her guard rotation for two years now, Kaito.”

“That long already?”

“Yes. You’ve only been a master for two years. No uncommon accomplishments or anything of the sort.”

“Well. I had the choice between being Pakku’s minion, or becoming his less minion-like minion.”

“Sometimes,” Arnook says, filling our cups again, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Sometimes? I’ll have to try harder, then.”

“Kaito,” he says gravely and turns to look at me fully, “Please don’t.”

“But chief,” I begin to drawl, and Arnook, like the adult he is, takes a quick look around before deeming it safe to slap me up the back of my head for my tone while I continue undeterred, “I just like to keep you young and spontaneous.”

“So try harder to be grown-up, and surprise me that way,” he suggests.

“So… like who?” I ask, and Arnook groans.

“Be like…” He searches for a proper role model, realises he’s coming up short, and sags into his cushion. Poor man.

We sit and drink until the Avatar comes over and starts telling his future girlfriend about their lesson with Pakku tomorrow. I wonder if he doesn’t care about Pakku’s lack of niceness, or just hasn’t noticed it yet. Or maybe my ploy to dismiss Pakku’s prickliness is already bearing fruit? I doubt it. Obliviousness can go a long way.

I’ve come to realise that deluding myself to that extent is more harmful than anything else. Nothing wrong with lying to yourself, so long as you still know that you’re doing it. Although then it’s more of a curtain you don’t really pull aside to check whether reality still exists without your attention on it. Usually, it does. So you pick curtains with a nice pattern.

“Finally! I have so many questions,” she gushes and Arnook and I trade a look. Yeah, that’ll go over about as well as we expect. But then again, _I_ was his student not so long ago. However, that might have lessened her chances at leniency from him, since he now knows how to best handle stubborn children.

“Poor Pakku,” I say lowly and we share a grin.

“He said sunrise tomorrow. If you’re not hungover you could come watch,” Arnook suggests just as quietly.

“I wouldn’t miss that show for anything in the world.“

All in all, it’s a good night. Hahn gets a bit drunker than he should, and I deposit him in my guest room because his dad’s still not cool and go to bed for the two hours that we’ve got until sunrise.

.

Upon waking, I blearily stare up at the ceiling. Yue became a Strong Independent Individual with a Plan and will break Hahn’s heart in a few hours… or days. Pausing for a moment in my motions to right myself, I remove the capital letters from that thought.

As I roll to my feet, I think about how the Avatar arrived, and Pakku will do his best to snuff out that cheer. I give him good odds. He can be a real wet rag to the face, when he wants to. And he’ll want to.

At least the market is in full progress already, so I get breakfast on the way. Those freshly-baked crab-cakes are heavenly. And that stand that brews Yugoda’s special tea already has a mug waiting for me. Nice girl, to think of me every morning. Already my day is looking up.

“Looking better than expected today, Kaito,” her father comments as I hand over the money.

“Ah? It’s your tea that makes me get out of bed every morning, even after the festival,” I reply, inhaling the scent. “How do you manage to get up afterwards without the promise of it already waiting?”

He laughs, “I wasn’t there. Aisu was, though,” he glances at his daughter. She smiles, suddenly shy.

“I didn’t see you there… you should have come and said hello!”

She shakes her head, “You were with the chief.”

I frown. “Arnook would welcome you. He likes to speak with the people he protects, you know?”

She shrugs.

“Well, come next time! And you too, Keiki,” I tell the man who is watching with a sly smile. “Arnook’s been wanting to meet the people who motivate me to show up to guard duty on time.”

They both nod with smiles. Well, that’s settled, then. The people need to know who it is that rules them. And Arnook needs to speak with people who aren’t stuffy old men and women.

I move along the stands, and find some breakfast. In the line for fishcakes I spot Katsuo. Sidling up to him and ignoring the huff of the person behind him, I clap his shoulder. “Good morning!”

He shoots me a glare for my trouble. Probably the volume. And my presence.

“I haven’t seen you around,” I mention as we shuffle a step forward.

He grunts something unintelligible. It sounds vaguely like ‘patrol duty’ and ‘lucky arsehole’ in between mumbling. I smile. My former fellow student under Pakku has never been the friendliest early in the morning.

“So you’re in the next couple of days?”

A nod, accompanied by a suspicious glare.

“I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. I’ll come find you tomorrow,” I tell him and order first. I can feel the absolute loathing he has for me as he sends it out in angry waves. Well. It’s his problem for knowing me in the first place.

With fishcakes in one hand, and tea in the other, I am ready for the day.

.

Pakku’s already there when I arrive.

"Good morning!" I greet cheerfully, starting him.

In retaliation he bends the ice beneath my feet to throw me off balance, and I bend myself to the side smoothly, gliding around him to look him in the face. "Sleep well?" I continue as I avoid his sneak attacks from below, lazily ice-skating.

His glare from above impressive eye-bags is answer enough.

"Got a bit of a headache there, Pakku?"

He scowls.

"Want me to do the thing?"

"Call it by its name, Kaito.”

"The Thing, then?"

He sighs. Glances around, and gives me a nod. I'm quick about curing his hangover, and he already looks less irritable. While changing absolutely nothing about his sour expression. With an especially cheerful grin for counterbalance, I move to lounge on the steps leading up to the palace. From my pocket I fish a strip of dried and pickled seaweed to chew on.

He does his warm-ups in silence, and I watch the sun begin to cast bright light and glitter over the city.

Once I get bored, I take pleasure in breaking his concentration with well-timed splashes of water close to his feet. His eyebrow twitches comically every time I do it, but ever since I became a Master myself, he doesn’t chastise me anymore, feeling it below both our dignities. But he should know by now that I have none. It’s good training anyway.

“Excited to be teaching the Avatar?” I ask, slurping my hot tea. Coffee is strangely absent in this world. Which is a tragedy in its own right. But Yugoda has this herbal mixture that ‘wakens the spirit’ that I even brew myself on particularly bad days when I don’t manage to stop by the market. It’s the small things that comfort.

“No more than I was you,” he says drily, but without the cutting edge he takes with others. Should I be worried about my position as his favourite?

To tease him back, I tug a bit on his elegantly bent water. It shifts, barely, and is back to perfection with a baleful look in my direction. He knows me too well by now not to keep his guard up.

Keeping him on his toes is still my job, with uselessly perfect students like his current ones. Then again, maybe I should pass on the torch soon. The Avatar and his friend are bound to be good examples.

I’m lounging on the steps to the palace when the Avatar and the girl arrive. They look far too chipper for the hour. Then again, they’re not allowed to drink yet.

“Good morning Master Pakku!” The Avatar shouts and finally Pakku drops his bending act.

“No, please, march right in, I’m not concentrating or anything,” Pakku says, snarky as ever. I’m sure he was only doing all that bending because he wanted to say that to the Avatar. He doesn’t usually warm up with the kid-stuff. But then again, he’s teaching a new set of students today, and you never know.

The Avatar introduces his friend Katara. She even bows. Pakku bends himself a seat. Ah, that doesn’t bode well for the girl. Not interesting enough of a first impression perhaps? “I’m sorry. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You didn’t tell me your friend is a girl. In our tribe, it is forbidden for women to learn waterbending.”

Her temper rears its head.

“What do you _mean_ you won’t teach me?” She stomps towards him, all anger and red cheeks, “I didn’t travel across the entire world, so you could tell me no!”

“No,” Pakku deadpans. I smother my laughter. You can’t pave the road for someone like that and expect them to take the high one.

“But there must be other female waterbenders in your tribe,” she reasons, switching gears immediately. It would be impressive, were it not said in such an angry tone. Pakku likes cool and collected individuals. Never would he teach such a freely expressive person, unless he had another, personal reason to disregard his usual standards. That’s probably why most of his students are great benders, but have some problems in the emotional capacity department.

Pakku replies with a smile, “Here the women learn from Yugoda to use their waterbending to heal. I’m sure she would be happy to take you as her student,” he drops the smile, “Despite your bad attitude.”

Oooh, classic Pakku. While he’ll insult you as he pleases, he tells you to mind your manners. It works surprisingly well for him, when the other person isn’t me.

… Or Katara.

“I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!”

“I can see that,” he says snidely. He’s poking holes in her abysmal attempts at poise and appearing mature. Like any teenager, she doesn’t take it well. “But our tribe has customs, rules.”

“Well your rules stink!”

True, but it’s not like that’s going to impress Pakku. Katara could do well with some logical arguments that don’t aggressively attack his culture, but it’s not as if that’s likely to happen any time soon.

Especially not if the Avatar backs up her run-against-the-brick-wall approach with “Yeah! They’re not fair! If you won’t teach Katara, then-”

“Then what?” Pakku provokes, finally.

Should’ve just let him lose the hot air for a few more moments if he was going with the watch-and-let-it-play-out method. But Pakku does so enjoy making brats feel like idiots.

“Then I won’t learn from you,” the Avatar blusters and walks off. Great loyalty, but what now? He _is_ the Avatar, I suppose. There will be _someone_ willing to teach him. But even the lowliest master, if there even is such a thing, has his pride, and if Katara is the condition for being the Avatar’s teacher, he’d best settle for healing.

We’re strangely backwards here. Social standing is everything. Everything. Going against Pakku means going against the ruling caste and that brings complications of a calibre that most people like to steer clear of. They might entail that your brother’s chances at getting that apprenticeship he dreams of are null over night. Or perhaps your father’s long-standing promotion turns into a demotion. He might even lose some well-paying customers. The works.

If I decided to help them out, I would lose Pakku’s confidence. Trust. I grimace.

It was different when I went to learn from Yugoda and Buniq helped me understand some of the new bending methods I hadn’t ever encountered before. In exchange I gave her a few pointers about my kind of bending, but that was all I could do. She was angry at me for it, but thankfully she never said anything to Pakku about me helping her at all. I practised with her, but there was a limit to what I could reasonably disclose without someone taking notice.

“Well, have fun teaching yourself, I’m sure you’ll do a great job,” Pakku replies condescendingly. He doesn’t even mention other benders, something I’m not sure the Avatar and his friend would consider, never having been to the city before as it is now. They might think that Pakku is the one who was assigned to them, and that others would not take up the mantle.

While we all have a duty to defend our city, our home and loved ones, we can usually do as we please. Hence, there is me, doing as I please.

It needs to be mentioned though, that I am very much part of the ruling caste here. Male waterbenders hold all the power. Even if we might be doing the guard duties, or accompany the seal hunters, and fishermen on their trips outside the city, we are what even allows for our civilisation to thrive in these unhospitable lands. Daily life revolves around us, and the civilian populace dares not forget it.

“Wait! Aang didn’t mean that,” Katara tries to rescue the situation she instigated. Well, Pakku instigated it, but Katara’s temper escalated it. She lays a hand on the Avatar’s shoulder, says something and he comes back. The girl herself heads towards the healing huts.

“Great, why don’t we get started, then?” and Pakku blasts the Avatar right off his feet.

Yup, been there, done that. A healthy taste of your own inadequacy helps to motivate. Or so Pakku’s teaching method dictates.

It goes like that for a while. Sometime around midday I get bored of Pakku bullying a twelve-year-old and get us both some hot broth from one of the market stalls I’ve been a patron at since I was five. I get food for free every couple of months. The market is full of people to chat with, or chat up, and you always return with something worthwhile. Usually, gossip.

“So, Pakku, having fun yet?” I ask as I lounge against the ice block I bended for optimal lounging purposes. If you’ve got the means to make your life the best it could be, I say make away. I had heaps of luck on my side, but hard work day in day out is what got me to where I am now. And my days aren’t always this relaxed.

“Teaching is always such a joy,” he snarks and then tells the Avatar that he sucks on a fundamental level for waterbending.

Man, as an outsider that’s funny to watch. Not, that I’ve forgotten the pain that is being Pakku’s student. He knows exactly the ways with which he can make your existence miserable.

These days, I don’t hold a grudge. I got my revenge long ago.

Even so, I kind of feel for the Avatar. Maybe… “Mind if I steal your student for the rest of the day?”

“And what,” Pakku demands to know, “Would you be doing with him?”

“Why so suspicious? One of these days you’re going to hurt my feelings. I’m not going to damage the Avatar, you know?”

“Do I?” Prick.

“Come on, I brought you lunch.”

He aborts an eye roll. Ha, victory! The guy’s kind of a foodie. “Fine. Make sure he’s on time tomorrow.” He turns towards the Avatar, “You and I are done for today. Go with Kaito.”

The Avatar eyes me uncertainly as Pakku strides off. Should I introduce myself? …Nah.

“Come on, Avatar. I’m gonna show you something.”

He follows eagerly enough, frustrations forgotten for the moment. Children. Wish I had the ability, sometimes.

“Where are we going?” The excitement he radiates is palpable. New things _are_ fun, I suppose.

I shrug without answering. This annoys him. But he’s curious, so he bears it. The entire way to our destination. What patience. I don’t have that much patience on a good day. Whether it’s too much of immediate accommodation of my wishes in a previous life or simply disposition, I have no idea.

Curious eyes follow us on our way through the city. My face is well-known, and often enough liked, and by now everyone has seen the Avatar. Kesuk must be cursing my luck by now.

I take him to the wall where I’ve always enjoyed the view. The way the horizon stretches along the bay is something to not only be remembered, but viewed well over a thousand times.

Once we stand, looking out at the ocean, gentle today, wind biting at our faces, I speak. “There. Tell me what you see.”

He looks out at the ocean, then back at me, then at the ocean again. “Water…?”

I snort, “I’m sure you can do better than that, kid.”

I appreciate the irony of calling him that. After all, I’m only supposed to be seventeen myself.

He frowns and looks again. “Waves and their white bits on top and… ice.” This is more confident than he was earlier. So he does well with a bit of encouragement, even if it’s in the form of a slightly backhanded compliment. Expectations, more like. Good for him. The world has many.

“There’s more. You should be able to find it.”

He casts me a quizzical look, but searches. And searches. And searches.

Two guards walk past. They eye us curiously. I give them a wink. Both roll their eyes and move on.

A reputation has to be good for something. In this case, it’s that I do strange things, and I stand on this spot quite a lot. Adding the Avatar to the mix doesn’t really take from the familiarity of the routine. Non-bending guards are far more relaxed than their counterparts.

“The clouds!” the Avatar bursts out finally.

“Good,” I pat his shoulder. He beams. “Ocean, ice and clouds. They’re all water. So are mist, steam and snow.”

The Avatar’s huge eyes widen to alien proportions. “Oh! Oh, I see!”

He immediately starts bending the exercise Pakku tried teaching him. It works. Nice. One good deed a day and all that. He plays around with it for a while.

I often felt that bending worked best with understanding. Perhaps a trip outside the city could work well for him. But I doubt there is time. And his friends would want to join in. and Yue might, too. Then we’d be a party of seven, with an additional guard. So I’m not suggesting it.

As an airbender, water isn’t all that different, but it works with gravity, can be a tremendous force even, and air is… air, I suppose.

Considering how much work learning to bend as well I do went into my mastery, I wouldn’t want to have to try to apply all my knowledge to other elements. One is plenty.

“Okay. How about we get dinner?” I suggest.

“Ooh! Can we pick up Sokka and Katara on the way?” He’s very excitable, this Avatar of ours.

“Sure. They’re your friends, yes? Mind if we pick up one of mine?”

“Sure! Thanks for the help!”

“No problem.”

So we pick up a pining Sokka, who barely acknowledges us in favour of lusting after Yue – hormones of a teenage boy, I feel you Sokka – and a dejected Katara. Now, the female disposition is one I can’t claim to have any experience with, nor any other depending on her preferences. Who knows, this clear distinction between males and females in the tribe might have triggered a realisation that dividing by gender is redundant and stupid. But tackling that is a job for an entire people, and while I don’t think it’s all that bad, the system works to my benefit.

“Hey, Katara! How’s the healing going?” Avatar Excitable asks. This is clearly the wrong question. There are many wrong questions one can ask a girl, but there are also a few one should go about more sensitively with anyone. Since this is about Katara’s deep-seated desire to learn how to waterbend, Aang might want to curb the enthusiastic edge from his voice.

She huffs. “Fine.” No, it is not fine. Not when she says it like that. “Just…”

Sokka seems to notice his sister isn’t okay and pats her shoulder.

Then, she notices me. “And who’re you?”

“Ah, this is Kaito!” The Avatar introduces and I incline my head. “He’s friends with Master Pakku.”

Also the wrong thing to say. She glares, but keeps silent, which is interesting. I don’t think she realises that even teachers have a social life. Not, that she’d have been all too wrong with Pakku, before I came along.

“Just gonna stop by my place for a second to see if Hahn’s still there,” I tell them and they follow me dutifully like – disgruntled, in Katara’s case – ducklings.

I let them inside and they look around with interest. Probably didn’t expect it to be neat. Or they’re curious what a normal Northern Watertibe household looks like. Although they won’t find much that is common about my living situation. The reason I’m allowed to live on my own is that I’m already a master. Otherwise I would be forced to live with some of my cousins or other family until I reached the status of an adult.

I’m glad it never came to that. My remaining relatives and I don’t speak much.

I find Hahn still out cold. The drunkard. I wave my hand lazily and bend some water to splash in his face. Katara gasps, Hahn splutters, Sokka gapes and Aang laughs.

“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!” I sing at a horrible volume. Hahn covers his ears and moans miserably.

I laugh, but then I take pity on him. Curing hangovers is a skill I will forever be grateful to Yugoda for. Hahn, too, it seems.

“You-! You can heal! Why- How!” Katara demands, suddenly in my face, even though I’m head and shoulders above her in height. Impressive, that.

I imagine it becomes less impressive with time.

“I sat in on a few lessons a couple years ago. Pakku wasn’t too happy, but I figured I had better know, what with Fire Nation about. Less people die on patrol that way.”

That gets her to back off. Aang steps up with the questioning. “Pakku was your teacher?”

“Yeah,” I admit, then haul Hahn up on his feet. He staggers, then rights himself with a baleful look in my direction.

“And you’re friends now?” Sokka sounds dubious. I’m surprised he managed to surface from his haze of ‘Yue, so beautiful’. Teachers aren’t just embodied voices telling you things. They’re people, and often enough, decent ones.

“We are,” I confirm without voicing my thoughts. Instead, I move on to introductions. “This is Hahn. Hahn, this is Sokka, Katara and Aang.”

Hahn nods at each of them. They nod back. He goes to wash his face.

“Do you live together?” Aang asks, curious. Ah, youth. Untainted by social stigma and prejudice. Mostly. At least, Aang is innocent.

“Nah,” I say, watching Hahn emerge from the bathroom, “I live alone. Hahn just crashes here sometimes.” That he does this most nights, and has his own toothbrush here doesn’t need to be voiced.

They all follow me back outside.

“Where are your parents?” Aang asks and Hahn stiffens. They all catch that, except for Aang who continues to look at me patiently awaiting his answer.

“Gone,” I tell him. Could’ve said ‘dead’ and made the Avatar cry. _Does_ he cry easily? I don’t think he teared up much in the series. I think the one to shed tears most often was Sokka. But those were manly tears of joy, I’m sure.

“Oh.”

“Mmh,” I hum and continue to lead the way. Market place, here I come.

Hahn changes the subject. “Have you seen Yue? She was preoccupied yesterday.”

“Nah.” This is his way of prompting me to tell him what that commotion about her dragging me all over the palace was about.

“Why?” Sokka asks suspiciously.

I chuckle, “Hahn and the princess are engaged. You’ve seen the necklace, right?”

Hahn smiles like the lovesick idiot he is, not noticing Sokka gaping or Katara cocking her head. He won’t be smiling like that for much longer, I think and keep my gaze well away from his face. Thankfully, he is too oblivious to notice, and the others will not think it odd that my attention rests primarily on them.

“Necklace?” Katara asks.

“Yeah. Don’t you know?” I thought someone else told her in canon. Things are a bit murky, but didn’t someone tell her about her grandmother’s engagement with Pakku? Yugoda?

“No, obviously not.”

I shrug, “Ah, well, I figured with you wearing one…”

“Huh?” This comes from Aang. Oh, right. He’s been crushing on Katara since she and Sokka pulled him from the ice. I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s devoted once he falls in love.

“This was my Gran’s,” she explains, touching it with an expression that is both tender and confused. I can understand. Why give that necklace to a young girl when her grandmother isn’t even married to the man who gave it to her? A means of telling the northerners ‘hands off’ if she ever goes for a visit? If so, it’s working. Mostly, because she’s a bit too much of a wildcard for most people’s delicate sensibilities around these parts, even when it’s clear that she’s not of age yet.

She challenges, and we’re all too comfortable where we are.

Hahn explains: “Well, here, once a woman turns sixteen, she is eligible for marriage. When she’s betrothed to someone she wears a necklace the man gives her.”

Katara blushes to her roots, Aang just nods along and Sokka sends Hahn the death glare. Very canon. “She can refuse, of course,” I say, and it’s meant as both a warning for Hahn and cautioning for Sokka.

We’ve arrived at the market. “So, dinner?” I prompt and Team Avatar looks around curiously.

Despite the tension between Sokka and Hahn, is a fun affair, with the Avatar flitting about, trying anything and everything. Sokka, Hahn and I are only too happy to eat what he doesn’t like.

The people figure giving the Avatar something for free can only be good for spiritual relations. Not, that we’ve been all that remiss in keeping up the odd little traditions.

Even the trinkets hanging from the stalls are to welcome friendly spirits into our midst. Not, that I’ve ever seen one. I tried. Tried all sorts of things children think up, and got all the other kids to try as well, because that was what we did then. These days, most of us are either patrolling, working, or chasing skirts. It’s not a hard life. If you’re adept at ignoring social expectations of you, that is.

Hahn leaves us and I bring the Avatar and his friends back to their lodgings. “Night.”

“Good night!” Aang shouts, and I get two more subdued ones from the siblings.

Hahn goes to the barracks to see about patrol schedule and what duties his father has delegated to his son.

As I lay down to sleep, I wonder what those three will do about their respective dilemmas. Sokka will probably not give up on Yue, Katara certainly won’t give up on Pakku teaching her, and Aang, well, the kid will get himself into trouble somehow.

I hope Yue speaks to him about her true feelings soon. Or I will have to, and I really don’t want to.

.

It’s not Aang who knocks on my door late at night.

Hahn stumbles over the doorstep, nose bloody, eye already swollen and balance lasting only as far as my hands that I stretch out to catch him.

I’m silent as I patch him up. He can see my anger. Knows it well. Knows that he could always just come live with me. Does that, for a week. Feels guilty. Goes back. Gets hit.

Rinse and repeat.

I don’t want to think about how many bandages of mine have been drenched in Hahn’s blood.

With a cursory search of other injuries, because he will never just show me, the self-flagellating idiot, I find bruised ribs. It’s getting steadily worse. At some point, I might have to mend a broken bone. And I don’t know how to do that very well. Not without complications. Perhaps another visit to the old woman is in order.

There is no need for words when he curls up on the pile of furs that are, for all intents and purposes, his. In silence, I clean up, make him drink some water, and go sit by the fire.

I used to feel furious on his behalf.

Now, I need the fire to thaw at the icy block that settles beneath my skin each time he comes home like this. There is always the thought of just murdering his father.

But his father punishes Hahn for being a child, and needing the help of his mother, only for her to die in the process of saving her son. And Hahn, were the man gone, dead by my hand, would turn to other means of punishing himself. He, too, believes himself to be at fault.

Bare feet close enough to feel like the flames are licking at my skin, I lean back until I lie flat, staring at the ceiling.

It’s got to end, soon. Hahn’s been a warrior close to a year now, and it’s getting embarrassing for him to be still living at home. I would pressure him, but he’d… run.

How I hate that even growing out of that cursed child’s body I am powerless even now.

I used to think, so long as I could run, could go wherever I want, I would do whatever I like. I’d forgotten that even though you might have the power, it is not your right, nor your place to decide and interfere for another person.

Sometimes I wish I thought of Hahn as my child. He could be, for our mental age.

He’s not.

I’m his friend, his safe haven, the place he won’t be judged.

But that’s all I am.

We’re not friends in the sense that I could tell him who I really am. Along the same vein, I am not his confidant.

He just knows to come here when he’s hurting and feeling small.

I’m sort of relieved I didn’t tell him about Yue yet, or this could’ve been far worse. He might not have come for help.

.

The next day, there is a hearing for the Avatar and Katara because apparently, they figured Aang could show her his new moves and she’d learn through him. There is a knock on my door to inform me of it, and I wonder what they need me there for. Any other hearings I attend are directly related to me, or I was witness to the incident.

I check on Hahn’s injuries, all of which have healed well and wash. Then I go. I lament the urgency of the hearing as I hurry past the market. Then I pause. And turn around. No hearing will have me there without my tea.

Besides the usual attendees, Yue is there, too. She looks at me before pointedly jerking her chin for me to sit beside her. Oh. Oh, bugger.

Suddenly, my comfortable existence is being turned on its head.

The tension is running high. The Avatar and Katara and Pakku’s confrontation must have been very dramatic.

Come to think of it, Pakku does have a taste for theatrics. Sadly, because the art of theatre isn’t a thing beyond the occasional storytelling or full-moon celebration and performance, people cater to his palate almost constantly.

It’s all kind of funny. Everything to do with the Avatar is rather entertaining, so no theatre will be built any time soon. Which is a shame, really.

“Morning,” I greet with a yawn in my voice that irritates most of the elderly, and amuses all others. As I settle next to Yue, mug still in hand from where I got it from the market on the way here, she sends me a look that screams consequences, should I not pay attention.

“Now that all of us have finally arrived,” Arnook says, “We shall begin.”

The teenagers stand taller. Aang looks sheepish, but not very guilty.

“The cause of this hearing is that when Master Pakku began the Avatar’s training yesterday, his companion, Katara, also desired to be taught. However, as is custom in our tribe, Pakku referred her to Yugoda. At first, the issue seemed resolved, when last night Aang was found teaching his lessons to Katara. This is a grave insult, and borders on criminal offence. Our law states that only a Master may teach waterbending, and since this Master’s teachings may be of a traditional nature,” he pauses at some of the confused looks, “Family bending styles – they are not to be shown to others.”

Yue is following the speech diligently. I chance a look at Arrluk’s stern visage beside me, the way our chief is hiding his displeasure at having to play mediator, Yugoda’s secretly gleeful expression – I can only assume she has high hopes for Katara – and Pakku’s stubborn set of shoulders. Hurt pride. Well. He’s got good cards, since he is who he is, and the elders who are here understand everything there is to know about pride.

“Since you performed this act at night, even though you did not know of the law, we can only deduce that you were aware it was something forbidden. I suggest you present to us a way of resolving this conflict.”

I send Yue a despairing glance of ‘Why am I being subjected to this?’ and her glare tells me she thinks I deserve it.

It’s Katara who speaks up, even as the Avatar looks ready to make the appeasing apologies. “I don’t see how such a basic technique could be a family one, so I don’t think that Master Pakku’s reaction was appropriate.”

Oh shite.

“It is precisely because you do not see that you are unsuited to learning any of my teachings, even second hand. If I were less inclined to believe that the Avatar was led astray by you, I might consider this more than an infraction, and treat you both as criminals,” Pakku replies, icy cold.

“I know of a bender who has learned from both you and Yugoda! Why am I, not even a member of this tribe, not afforded the same opportunity?” She argues well. But using me as an example puts me in the difficult position of having to explain that this was an agreement between Yugoda and I. At the time between Master and a student. I broke no law.

“Since you are not a member of this tribe, you should be careful when you disregard what is given, girl. You are not entitled to anything, and you have not asked formally for instruction. Therefore, if we are to argue on technicality and precedence, I shall note that the individual in question approached Yugoda for training of his own volition and shared a student-Master relationship with her,” says one of the Elders mildly, but cuttingly all the same. I remember helping out his grandson on a patrol. Which is probably why he’s favouring me by speaking for my case. Then he won’t feel that his family owes a debt any longer. Not, that they do. But politicians are weird.

“That isn’t fair! How would I know of such a thing?”

“By asking,” he replies. “That is commonly what one does when one visits a foreign territory. One enquires about the rules. Of course, we had assumed that common decency would keep you from breaking any.”

I sip my tea. Poor girl. They’re not showing any mercy.

However, she’s not reacting very well either. Not, that many would, considering.

Katara is silent for a moment, before straightening once more. “Fine. I acknowledge that I made a mistake. But,” she glowers at Pakku, “Like you said, it wasn’t Aang’s idea, so he shouldn’t be punished.”

My brows rise. Well. She may be attempting to take the fall, but the fact remains that Aang was the one to teach her, and break the law.

“Unfortunately, the issue does not resolve itself that easily,” Arnook states, and he sounds tired.

“And why not? It’s that simple!”

“What would you like me to do,” he asks sardonically, “ _Force_ Master Pakku to take Aang back as his student?”

“Yes,” she states, realises that that was a mistake, but does not backpedal, “Please.”

Arnook’s face tells her he can’t do that, and does not want to. Not for a foreign girl against his friend, and ally. “I suspect,” he says slowly, clearly, and very, very fed up, “That he might change his mind if you swallowed your pride and apologised to him.”

Her hands clench. She struggles with her anger, and her desire to help Aang, as well as be seen as the better person. After all, the view from above is so nice. “Fine.”

Pakku, if he were a lesser man, would lean forwards and smile cruelly. As it is, he remains poised as he looks at her from his seat. “I’m waiting, little girl.”

I can see the exact moment she snaps.

The ice beneath her feet cracks, and it is only my quick intervention – the will and control against hers over the gourds of water on either side of the assembled – that prevents her from further embarrassing herself. Only children cannot control their bending that their emotions do it for them.

“No! No way am I apologising to a sour old man like you!”

“Uh, Katara…” Aang says finally, from beside her. He looks so much out of his depth that I feel a surge of pity for him. She can steamroll quite well, that girl.

“I’ll be outside – if you’re man enough to fight me!” She storms off.

Stunned silence reigns, before I loudly slurp my tea.

Yue whacks my arm, and only quick bending keeps the liquid in the mug.

“So,” I say, raising an eyebrow at my former teacher, “You gonna go?”

He does not deign to reply, and simply stands.

Yue looks like she has just now realised that every single one of us here is a child.

Following Katara to the steps of the palace, I wonder how this is going to play out. She’s determined to make Pakku acknowledge her. And he’s trying to tell her that when Master Pakku says ‘No’ he means it.

Well, never let it be said that he doesn’t rise to a challenge.

“Fine! You want to learn to fight so bad?” His face stretches into a mask of anticipation of sadistic joy. “Study closely!”

He proceeds to show off a little. But it’s sloppy. Sloppier that I’ve ever seen him. So, what he’s doing here, is allowing her to see what works, but not the perfect way to do it, sabotaging even her study through observation. That’s just petty.

She tries to go in close, knowing that she probably has little chance of beating him when he’s got a bit of range. He’s an old man by now, after all. One punch to the face would be enough.

But Pakku know his strengths and plays to them.

A blast of water sends her careening through the air. Once she’s lost her momentum, he forces her close with a tightening circle of quickly flowing water. He likes that. Showing an opponent that they can’t touch him, but he can very well do the opposite.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Spirits, I forgot how patronising the man can be.

She breaks the circle, the blast coming at the audience. Smoothly, I bat it away, like an annoying fly and cross my arms. It becomes part of the banister. Pakku really is being gentle with her, if this is all it takes to take the momentum out of his bending. And she should take care who she hits. There are spectators – children – here. One little boy takes cover behind my leg, bunching the fabric in small fists, even as he peeks at the fight. I recognise him as the little brother of one of Yue’s more bearable friends.

Once more, she tries getting close, and he sends her up a ramp, over his head. He can control where she goes, is the message, and where he wants her is the healing huts.

“You can’t knock me down!” She stands proudly on top of the end of the banister. Cheers. Pakku’s not so well-liked among the younger generations. That’s what I’m for, I suppose. A tool in Yue’s campaign when she makes her bid. It’s not too late to become a hermit, I hope. Then she won’t be able to use me.

That bit of instinctive bending Katara does, anchoring her feet is well and good, but what if someone takes control of that ice around her ankles and just snaps them? Not, that Pakku would do that to a girl. But he’s been known to be a bit rough on his students for making mistakes.

While we’re not taught to be outright malicious, exploitation is definitely part of his curriculum. It’s only sensible.

He teaches how to stay alive. At all costs. Outside the city, when encountering Fire Nation, it’s saved my life.

Again, she tries getting close. A small fissure of ice slows her enough that Pakku can choose how to engage her in hand-to-hand combat. His stance is comfortable and uses his longer reach to disable her honestly rather pitiful attempts at hitting him in the face.

I have an urge to teach her how to properly throw a punch.

While she concentrates on that, he smoothly integrates his bending, sweeps her off of her feet and into the fountain whose figurine he stealthily removed at the beginning of the fight, to show off.

She surfaces with a gasp, and goes right on using what was her downfall just a moment ago as her weapon.

Her tenacity is impressive, and she’s creative in sending those slabs of razor-sharp ice at him, one by one, each probably life-threatening if she had the right aim and wasn’t up against Pakku. He too is surprised. She presses her advantage, the slight moment of her being the attacker, and the one to control the fight.

But Pakku’s a master. _The_ master.

She’s forced back, again, her own bending turned against her. He knows where all bodies of water are at all times, and Katara still works with visuals. What is in front of her is her weapon, not everything that surrounds her.

Those last urns of melted snow that were meant to be our drinkable water in case of a poisoning of the lands, Pakku easily turns into cystals of its original state. “Well, I’m impressed. You are an excellent waterbender.”

That’s high praise. Especially from Pakku. I’m surprised he’d tell her that. But then again, when Pakku is impressed, he is impressed.

“But you still won’t teach me, will you?”

She’s angry. Humiliated in parts and not ready to accept complete defeat in others.

“No.”

Two more attacks, each made use of and adapted smoothly into his own, Pakku takes one of my favourite manoeuvres and surfs along his bended ice to get close to her. He trips her, and lands smoothly one the edge of the other fountain with a bit of a flourish.

That water he uses to finally end this.

I don’t worry about those spears. He has superb control, knows exactly where each one is at any given moment, and to there is very little chance of him harming her. Even if he does, there’s always the healers, no? The boy clinging to my leg jerks in fear for her. I pat his head comfortingly before I realise what I’m doing.

I glance around. No one saw. Phew.

She struggles, of course. But his control hasn’t left those spikes, and hers is untrained. She’s never tested her will against another in bending.

“This fight is over.”

The man’s arrogant. But he’s the superior one. He won, soundly.

“Come back here! I’m not finished yet!”

I sigh.

“Yes, you are.” He bends down to pick up her necklace, that fell during the fight. All tension exits his body. His voice is barely audible as he says, “This is my necklace.”

The astonishment in his voice is rare. I free myself from the boy to go down the steps. Yue follows.

“No, it’s not! It’s mine! Give it back!”

She’s soundly ignored. “I made this sixty years ago. For the love of my life.”

He relinquishes his control over Katara’s trappings. “For Kanna.”

“My Gran-Gran was supposed to marry _you_?” That’s kind of insulting. He _is_ the Master of all Waterbenders of the Northern Watertribe. Even if he is an arsehole. But most of us aren’t in much of a position to judge. Then again, she probably doesn’t mean for her reaction to be anything but that. She’s not very controlled.

For once, he doesn’t comment. All he does is look at her more closely. He sighs, a bit sadly, and looks back at the necklace in his hands. “I carved this necklace for your grandmother when we got engaged. I thought we would live a long happy life together. I loved her.”

“But she didn’t love you, did she?” Even though her tone is gentle, that’s a pretty shitty thing to say. “It was an arranged marriage.”

And then, she proceeds to manipulate his fragile state to her own advantage. “Gran-Gran wouldn’t let your stupid customs ruin her life.” She steps closer to his still-turned back. “That’s why she left. It must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

Beside me, Yue sucks in a breath of air. My hand twitches to land on her shoulder, but she wouldn’t want my sympathy, or comfort. Not in public. But, glancing around, I shift closer anyway. She meets my eyes for a short moment, and walks off.

I don’t follow.

Arnook and I watch her go. Sokka follows. “Did you know?” Her father whispers.

My shrug is answer enough, and he sighs. It’s good that Hahn’s not here to see that. He’s got enough other things to worry about.

Moving forward, I judge that Arnook can deal with his shit himself. I clap Pakku on his shoulder. “Told you she’s a spitfire.” Then I sling my arm around his shoulders and drag him off, under the surprised eyes of the audience. Daydrinking it is.

He goes with half-hearted protests. We both know ‘no, Kaito’ means ‘you pay for the first round’.

.

Later, when he’s talked about his woes because he’s too intoxicated not to and I’ve dumped him at his home, I amble back to my place. And witness Yue kissing Sokka. Then running off. Again.

Ah, young love. Also, what is she doing? Does or doesn’t she want to rule the tribe?

Sokka spots me, tries and fails to act nonchalant. “Uh, hi Kaito, whatcha doing here?”

I wave him off. “On my way home... Sokka, man, I gotta say, you better hope I don’t see Hahn around. Or you get Yue to tell him, or something,” I rub the back of my neck, “I can’t be lyin’ to my friend.”

Sokka, suddenly solemn, frowns.

I begin to move on. “See you around.”

“Wait!” He runs to me and grabs my shoulder to spin me around, “Can you just not tell him? For a day or so?”

“Sokka.” I make a pained face not just for his benefit, but for the memory of last night. I hope Hahn’s just been sleeping for now, instead of back at training already. Knowing the idiot, he’s still there, overexerting himself. “Hahn loves her. He has a right to know. Especially because she accepted his proposal. It’s not an arranged marriage. She evidently likes you better, but if she doesn’t own up, she’s getting married to Hahn. Then they’ll both be unhappy.”

I don’t mention how she wants to become chief one day. How, if she and Sokka get involved properly, he would be expected to put his quest on hold.

Sokka’s entire frame droops. And he whines, “Why does this have to be so complicated?”

“Yeah. I don’t envy you right now.”

“I mean, she’s beautiful and wonderful and funny and smart, so why did she say yes to that jerk?”

I pat his shoulder. I’ve already done too much comforting the past few days and I haven’t gotten better with practise. “I get it, she’s the apple of your eye and all that.”

Suddenly, Sokka eyes me suspiciously, “What, _you_ ’re engaged?”

I laugh. I must’ve sounded more sympathetic than I thought. “Nah, not gonna happen.”

“Why not? Isn’t it tradition?”

“Do I look like a traditionalist to you?” I smirk. Seriously, where did he make the leap to me being engaged? I’m about as far from marital life as a mountain is from flying. But then again, I’m here, in a cartoon world, and how likely did I think that was?

He shakes his head. “Don’t you have someone you like?”

I shake my head, too. Then I decide, since he clearly wants something to relate to, I have to give him something vulnerable. “Not really. ‘Sides, all they see when they look at me is the lazy orphan bum who drinks with the chief and annoys Pakku.”

That’s a blatant lie. But Sokka doesn’t have enough contact with the citizens to know that.

“What, you drink with the chief?” His eyes bulge. It looks kind of comical.

“Yeah, I mean… Actually, I’m not gonna tell that story. Swore not to.” Bait set.

Clearly interested, he slings his arm across my shoulders even though he’s shorter than me. “Come on, you can trust me.”

I pat his cheek. “I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

He is not deterred and fingers my biceps. “So pretty far then, eh?”

Which, I’ll admit, is funny. I consider him for a moment, then I grin. “Sure, fine…”

I drop him off with the Avatar and his sister, still laughing in that obnoxious way of his. I really hope that if Hahn is crashing at my place, he’ll already be asleep. I have no desire to be in the middle of this little drama. He’s already in such a fragile state, but I know his affection for Yue, in the beginning, only ran as deeply as his father’s political connections.

These days, their story resembles Pakku’s quite a bit. So much heartbreak.

And I get to be here for all of it. Lucky me.

.

The next day, I’m assigned to Yue’s guard duty. Which always sucks when she’s had a rough time of it. But today, it sucks especially. I really am the wrong person for all this subtle touchy-feely-stuff. Always was.

In any case, she tells me that Pakku has officially made both Aang and Katara his students. The other ones he had will train with them, and are, apparently relieved that he has others to focus on for a time.

I listen and nod at appropriate times.

She notices something’s off. Which reminds me not to let my guard down around her. Through my friendship with her father, we’ve inevitably gotten to know one another quite well, and while I find her a bit too abusive of her status as princess over me at the moment, she’s also Yue and in a way, my friend.

As Hahn’s feelings for her gained depth, I thought she might feel the same way for him. But that was all speculation, since I don’t think she has many people to honestly confide in.

“What?” she snaps when I eye her a little shrewdly.

I shrug and don’t answer. What can I say? This is a bad time, and she probably doesn’t know what to do with herself any more than I could tell her.

It riles her up more. “You are so annoying! Why can’t you ever behave like a normal person?”

I sigh. “Princess…”

She whirls, turns on me. “Spit it out!”

“I met Sokka last night.”

She freezes, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “So?”

“Just, princess, if you’re gonna break Hahn’s heart, be honest about it.”

She tries to slap me. Slap me! Like _I_ ’ve done something wrong. Like _I_ ’m the one who won’t break off my engagement.

I duck away. “Coward!”

“That makes no sense at all, you hypocrite,” I tell her.

Tears begin to form in her eyes. Wonderful. She throws herself into my arms. Which is. So stupid. Why am I her tissue again?

I sigh and let her cry on me. Things were much better when the Avatar wasn’t here. We were all so caught up in ourselves that these new and interesting people symbolising freedom are throwing everyone’s game off. While I can do as I please, Yue was always caught and caged in her role as the chief’s daughter. She has responsibilities, and there are expectations for her. Now she wants to exceed them. With my help.

Part of me yearns for a soft, fluffy bed to climb into, and never back out.

When she’s done and backs off, still sniffling and red-cheeked, I decide to lighten the mood and take a bit of revenge for my poor shirt.

I bend her snot out of her nose.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then she screeches bloody murder and I take off towards where I know Pakku and his students are. There are plenty warriors and benders to guard her there and I can make a clean exit.

It doesn’t happen quite that way. When the Avatar sees me coming, he waves enthusiastically. I understand the need to escape Pakku’s lectures. “Hey, Kaito! What are you doing?”

“Saving my hide!” I barely slow to give him my answer, Yue is hot on my heels, doesn’t even care how undignified she’s behaving. Good for her, I suppose. Pakku’s struggle to remain stern with her later will be hilarious to watch.

Aang decides that I am more interesting than Pakku and tags along on his airbending ball of awesomeness. I always thought it was cool, but seeing it with my own eyes is double that. “What did you do?”

“Eh, nothing special.” I cross a bridge. Yue is not yet ready to give up.

“Nothing special! I’m going to get you for this, Kaito!” She shouts and people are starting to look alarmed. Okay, so maybe not my brightest moment, but at least she’s not crying anymore. I risk a look over my shoulder to check on her progress. There’s about twenty feet separating us.

The Avatar laughs and we lead her on a merry chase until I have the bright idea to crash in on Hahn and his warriors. That means she can use her ire to power through breaking things off, and Hahn can come find me later.

“Kaito! Aren’t you on guard duty for Yue today?” So protective. So suspicious.

She appears in the doorway. “Kaito! Don’t think you can hide behind Hahn!”

“What did you do?” Hahn rounds in on me and I shrug as I hide behind him ineffectively. Damn my height! Well, nothing more for me to do here.

“Hey Aang, help me out here?” I ask and he laughs loudly, happily, yanks on my collar, and off we are. This is turning out better than expected. The clean escape is nice.

We stop somewhere closer to Pakku’s training grounds than I’d like, but we’re not in his sight, so we should be fine. I lay back, laughing and Aang joins in.

“Seriously, what did you do?” he asks after a while.

I chuckle. “I bended the snot from her nose.”

Aang laughs loudly. It was pretty funny. That look of outrage…

Maybe she’ll reconsider involving me in her campaign.

We stay like that for a while, and I take the opportunity to practise guiding underwater currents without disturbing the surface. The trick is to spread your awareness of the body of water in front and beneath you so far, that where you bend is only connected to you through mind and feeling. That’s usually what we speak of when we say ‘mastery’.

Aang is silent, but thoughtful until he has an idea. “Kaito, do you think you could help me with something?”

“I’m not bending your bogers, Aang.”

He laughs. “No! Katara and I found this scroll with a waterbending sequence, but neither of us have managed it. Maybe we were missing something.”

“Sure, show me,” I say, hoping it’s the one he used to get rid of the Fire Nation fleet in canon. I have this idea that if enough benders work together, we can produce the same effects, only far earlier, so that no Fire Nation soldier even sets a foot into the city. It’s only a vague concept so far. Hardly worth agonising over until I know.

Aang begins the sequence and I think it’s the one. His results are far from stellar. It really is just a thick tendril of water that splashes back down as soon as he’s done.

“You know you can just do it like this, right?” I ask, raise one bent wrist and open my fingers as if dropping something once the tendril is at the same height Aang’s was. It looks exactly the same.

His face is a hilarious mixture of astonishment and frustration. “That’s not it!”

I laugh. “I know.” I get on my feet. “Sometimes things work better when you’re doing them with another bender. Run me through it once, then we try, yeah?”

Aang nods. It’s good, it flows, we fit.

“Wow, you got that down pretty fast,” he says, impressed.

“I’ve been bending since I was two,” I reply by way of explanation. “It’ll be a wall at first, and there will be power in it, to destroy or subside. We’re going to want to let it down gently. Let’s try it then. Remember to just feel what you’re doing.”

The first stance feels very much like the beginning of something grand. With the slight crunch of snow beneath our heels we shift into the second. This one guides its shape and our intentions. The third moulds our power, and from there, it builds.

With every shift, and gesture, it rises. I can feel Aang’s astonished glee, and he will experience my elation for how it is working, thought I doubt that he could detect that it is mine.

The wall of water builds nicely, evenly and looks magnificent. It feels magnificent. Bending is always like this, to some degree, but if it’s something you need to be in perfect synchronisation with another bender with, it’s just so much more. We click well.

Aang obviously feels the same way, because he whoops and breaks form. But it’s his first time, and he’s twelve, so he can be forgiven.

Which is, of course, partner-bending 101: never break form.

I manage to avoid getting wet by way of directing the water towards Aang.

He looks like a wet puppy and splutters appropriately. He draws himself up, but before he can retaliate, Katara and Pakku show up.

Aang is suitably distracted by this. I’m getting away with so much today. Must be all the comforting I did. Has to be good for something.

“Katara! Kaito and I managed it together! It’s really cool!”

She seems to know what he’s talking about without a proper explanation. “Show me!” she demands and Pakku nods along. He’s curious. At the core of his cold, shrivelled heart, he’s just a ball of wonder for the world.

So Aang bends his clothes dry and we do it again. This time, we bring the wave back down gently.

Katara looks stupefied, Pakku is grudgingly impressed. “Want to join in?” I suggest and both of them nod.

We have two dry runs until we’re in harmony, then we bend. This is much quicker than usual. In parts because Pakku and I know each other so well, in a parts because the phenomenon of inexperienced benders meshing with experienced ones always allows the latter to set the pace. There is no struggle for dominance of will and control, because it’s already so clearly established. I doubt wither Aang or Katara would know here to tug to wrench control from us, much less succeed.

The build-up is even more impressive than it was with just Aang and myself. We’ve got the wave about halfway when Katara moves on a little faster than us and the water destabilises.

Aang stops altogether, which Pakku will need to talk to him about. It’s fine to just stop with something small, but if it’s a sequence like this, and together with others, it’s safer to keep going and salvage what you can.

Thankfully, Pakku and I know each other’s style by heart and we synchronise our movements to bring the wave back down gently. His control always feels like a prompt greeting, and I mentally pat his shoulder in turn as we move simultaneously.

The other two watch with open mouths.

Pakku draws himself upright. “Sequences like this,” he begins to lecture, “Are all about harmony. That means we need to all work together, there is no competition, no rushing ahead. Aang, I expect you to follow through with the movements the next time. Katara, you too. You have to synchronise with your fellow benders and get the water back under control.”

They nod, “Yes, Master Pakku.”

I stifle my laughter and flatten my expression. I was never this polite. Pakku glances at me in warning. No corrupting his cute little students.

“How did you…? What you did wasn’t ending the sequence,” Katara says, still astonished.

Pakku and I share a look. He stares a bit. That means he wants me to answer. “Pakku and I have been bending together since I was five. So, twelve years now. With that amount of time you just know what the other will do and how to take up the rest.”

They both nod looking thoughtful. “Okay! Let’s do it again!” Aang enthuses and we get back in position.

We manage it together, this time. It’s a heady rush of power and it’s fucking impressive.

When we’ve brought the wave back down, there is clapping from behind us. We’ve gathered an audience. Perfect. Ah, and there’s Arnook. Even better. He always knows what I’m thinking.

“Very impressive,” he compliments, “I’ve never seen it before.”

That’s a question for Pakku. “It seems the Avatar and his friends stumbled across a waterbending scroll from the Southern Watertribe. They had trouble with it individually, but this is one of the sequences that are best done with many.”

Arnook, thankfully, looks at me then, and he understands immediately what it is that I want to do. “With many, you say? How many do you think could do this?”

Pakku catches on that this could mean an extra layer of defence for the city. He’s all for it. “With enough practise, I’m sure thirty benders could manage it to create a wall taller than the palace.”

Thirty is usually the very limit to synchronised bending. The creation of our city is one of the few known examples where the number of benders was greater. Far greater. It illustrates how much the city was every single one of their desires.

Aang and Katara trade looks of confusion. Arnook looks thoughtful, then his eyes lock back onto me. Aw, crap. “Kaito, how about you teach twenty-nine of your fellow waterbenders this sequence. We’ll have a demonstration in four days on the night of the full moon.”

I sigh heavily. Pakku elbows me in the side. “Yeah, fine…”

Most of the bystanders express their exasperation by rolling their eyes or exchanging amused glances. All Arnook does is smile. If he thinks responsibility will make me grow up, he’s about to be proven wrong.

Six days is a bit short to make thirty people harmonise a rather complicated sequence, but I’m sure I can beat them into shape. I learned from the best, after all.

.

I hoped I’d get an aide or something, but it seems not. I’ll have to pick my own, then. Why do work you can delegate to someone else?

Hiraku seems like a good choice. He might not like me, but he’s one of Pakku’s, so we should work. I find him at the market where he’s chatting up a girl. She looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“I hate to interrupt…” I say as I approach them, and it’s true, I’d like to have seen if she was going to do anything about her discomfort. She sends me a grateful smile that Hiraku doesn’t see, and beats it.

Hiraku’s turned to face me. “Kaito. What do you want?”

I smile a lazy smile. “Chief Arnook is asking for a demonstration of a new sequence the Avatar and his friends discovered. I’m meant to teach it to twenty-nine others to give a demonstration on the full moon.”

His eyes widen. Then they narrow suspiciously. “And you want me to help you?”

I shrug. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if Pakku let you go, you have to be competent and I figure you know a bit more about the other bender’s abilities and who clicks with who.”

He adopts a haughty expression. “Quite. After all, not all of us have the privilege of guarding the princess.”

That’s meant to sting, is it? It’s always been a sore spot for the others. Guarding the princess is meant to be an honour, and I’ve been on the rotation ever since I made master. That’s not to say that I haven’t been on patrol, just that it’s been less frequent.

I give him a bland smile. “Sure. You in or not?”

He nods haughtily. Spirits, he’s worse than Pakku on a bad day. Worse than Hahn when he’s in front of his dad.

“Good,” I pat his shoulder, which he hates, because he’s not as tall as me, “See you in two hours in front of the palace steps with the others then.”

“Fine,” he says, then marches off to rise to the challenge of finding twenty-eight more benders for our cause. That was just pathetically easy.

I set about finding myself some lunch.

.

Pakku and his students have agreed to move to the side a bit, so thirty more people have enough space to bend together. About half of the lot have arrived, and we wait on the rest.

Hiraku leads the rest and then comes to stand beside me.

“Nicely done,” I comment to him, then I smile at the assembled benders. “I’d like to thank you all for coming. I’m sure Hiraku’s already filled you in on our objective, but I’ll lay it out again, just in case. The Avatar and his friends have shown us a new sequence that could potentially serve to strengthen our defences in the case of an invasion. Chief Arnook would like all of us to get it down and demonstrate on the night of the full moon, which is in six days.”

They all nod along, so I nod back and then turn around.

“Hey, Aang, Katara, why don’t you show us how it’s done?” I holler and at a nod from Pakku, both of them come over.

They manage quite nicely and everyone is suitably awed. I give them an applause in which everyone joins in. “Very good. How about we repeat dry and see who can get it down well enough to try with a partner?”

I gesture the kids over and we stand in front of the assembled to demonstrate the movements. “Alright, let’s do this a little slower, so everyone can see the sequence properly.”

They stand on either side of me and we work it like professionals. When we’re done, I clap their shoulders. “Thanks. If you don’t mind, would you keep doing that, so everyone can see the sequence while I go and help the others out?”

“Sure!” Aang agrees and Katara rolls her eyes, but does as asked.

Hiraku, I note, has got it down to two mistakes that he corrects on his second run. Five of the others are just as good. The rest need a little prodding.

“Hey, Kaito, can we stop yet?” Aang asks after their seventh rendition. I wave them off and they scurry back over to Pakku.

Those who I think should be okay I send to pair off with someone and the results of that vary from close to perfection to abysmal. After one such horrifyingly catastrophic attempt, I tell Hiraku to supervise the singles while I go around and help with synchronising the pairs.

Mostly, I insert myself into the dynamic and have them match my tempo. That way, when we go at it later, they should all have the same rhythm. I make two of the better pairs work as a team of four and that goes less smoothly, but still quite well. I hope to have at least three teams of four work as nicely as Katara, Aang, Pakku and I did.

I get four, which makes me dismiss them all with a grin. “Right, good going for today, I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch!”

Hiraku lets them go, but turns on me with a frown. “Why so late?”

“We have to perform at night on the full moon. I intend for them to stay until midnight tomorrow, longer the day after and so on. We need to get used to bending together as we grow stronger with the moon, otherwise we might just botch it all up because of the power increase.”

He nods stiffly, then marches off.

“Not bad,” Pakku says from behind me, smirking.

I shrug, “We’re getting there. Up for a spar?”

He grins. That’s definitely a yes.


	3. Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 1 Episodes 19, 20

Hiraku is an idiot, plain and simple.

But he’s neither plain, nor simple and that’s what makes him such a pain. While he does as I ask, he constantly undermines my supposed authority – we’re all consenting adults here, after all, even if we realise that a request from the chief is an order – in the smallest of ways. He doesn’t say anything, really. And I caught him on a bad day, when I asked him to be my coordinator of sorts. I did ‘chase’ his girl away.

But it’s very clear in the way he looks at me, and his tone when he speaks at me that he has no respect for my person.

Now, usually – because it’s a very rare thing when I truly respect anyone instead of the usual respect you have for another human being – I don’t mind. I can earn his respect, if it can reasonably be earned. But in this case, he’s trying to make me out to be someone instated from the top, but not an accepted leader. Someone to resent. That’s never good when it becomes a question of life or death. If he were questioning my competence outright, we could have an argument with a clear set of guidelines, but he’s making it about wordless power-plays.

Should he succeed, my orders would be at best obeyed with a delay of receiving permission from Hiraku, at worst entirely ignored. Not only would it be bad, in the case of something with as much destructive power as this, it would be catastrophic.

The fact is that my proficiency measured against Hiraku’s stand above his. Even in terms of experience I am one of the few benders who regularly take part in joint exercises in bending because of how close Pakku and I still are and how much he favours those exercises in his curriculum.

If Hiraku thinks he will be allowed to get anywhere with his actions, juvenile as they are, he’s mistaken. He plays his games. I prepare for larger concerns. Of which neither he nor the others know, and my certainty may originally stem from a children’s TV show, but I’ve kept an eye out, and there’s been an increase in attacks on our border patrols.

Hiraku, while projecting disapproval of me and my methods at every turn is beginning to turn into nothing but an annoyance. He doesn’t think beyond his envy. Might not even be aware of how malign it is turning out to be.

By the end of the third day, my patience has run out. What he is doing could endanger the entire city, not just my fragile self-confidence. This needs to be addressed. Even if it weren’t endangering the entire tribe, his behaviour isn’t acceptable for a supposed joint-effort.

Already there is resentment against me for my status with Pakku and Arnook. For the young age at which I became a master. I don’t need him adding to it and hurting our chances of making this work. He chose the benders cleverly. Almost every single one of them holds some preconceived notions of my character.

Of course, not all of them are wrong. I am a lazy, mostly apathetic and arrogant person with advantageous social standing within the tribe.

What I am not is weak, or unsuited to the task.

Once I’ve sent the benders home with instructions to think about who they can best work in tandem with to ensure a smooth rise, I confront Hiraku. His face as I ask him to stay is a haughty grimace.

“What’s the problem, Hiraku?”

He tries to brush me off, surprised that I would speak to him, instead of participating in his petty subterfuge and overt undermining of authority. “What? What problem?”

“Clearly, there is one. It’s so obvious you might as well shout it out from the palace steps.” Not helping, self.

I do need to get him to admit to his intentions, however. Not because I want to bring him before the council. I’ve always solved my problems myself, whenever I could. No, all I want is for him to realise how futile his efforts are. He’s irritated me. I want him to know it.

He sneers.

I point a lazy finger. “See, that right there. That’s the problem.”

He schools his face into a blank mask in an immediate conditioned reaction. He looks slightly constipated.

I give him a kind smile. “Perfect, just like that. You need to keep that face. Then I’ll believe you.” And I’ll keep having to suppress my laughter at it, if he does.

The mask shatters. I can almost hear it splinter. How many of those will dig deep into his cheeks to sting every time he gets a slap? “Your arrogance knows no bounds!”

“True. So?” Vaguely, I wonder if he would lunge to strangle me if I shrugged.

“So? So! You should not be the one to lead this effort! The recognition should not go to you at the demonstration! You have been too friendly with the Chief since your buddy Hahn got engaged to the princess!” He rants, spittle flying. I flick it away before it can reach me. “And that! The nonchalance with which you treat bending! I can’t stand it!”

My tone is that of a person concerned with the taste of their sea prune stew. “Oh dear. That’s quite a few more problems than I anticipated.”

I know this isn’t constructive. I know I’m not behaving in the best interest of conflict-solving. He’s just irritated me for long enough that I can’t hold myself back. I imagine he feels much the same way.

“Aarrgh!” he growls, and thrusts his palms out. Shards of ice shoot from the ground with me as their target. They’re blunted, so not necessarily lethal. Still, they could break bones. Ribs, if I allow them to continue on their path.

I decide to prove his point. Instead of batting them away and launching my own attack, I clench one hand into a fist and crush them to dust. It shimmers prettily in the fading sunlight.

Fairy dust, part of my mind whispers.

Hiraku looks shocked. Ah, so he understands the significance of bending with only one part of the body. I’m almost insulted he thought I couldn’t do it. Almost. This is a skill, while blatantly obvious now, that I keep close to my chest whenever I am not in trusted company.

However, I am aware of his level of self-absorption. While I was experimenting with it during our joint time as Pakku’s students, he was busy preparing for becoming a master himself.

“Now, this is all very dramatic, but we don’t have an audience to appreciate it.” His face! His face! I almost crack up. It’s worth not speaking of his little faux-pas seconds ago. One of our laws here states that attacking another bender in a not previously agreed capacity, such as sparring, results in trial and usually the penalty of being stripped of all honours and titles. That is, if no one got hurt.

It is a classic rendition of preventive law, to make the cost of consequence not worth the temptation.

He knows it, I know it, and it’s an insult to not address this, as though he were beneath my notice. That’s perfectly alright. I mean to insult. I am not generous enough to forgive all his slights without a bit of retaliation.

My smile is decidedly unpleasant. “I am giving you a choice: either stop undermining my authority, or don’t bother showing up tomorrow.”

Panic begins to spread over his face in twitches. It would be funny, if it weren’t such a serious consequence for him. He knows I could destroy him, socially. I have the connections, and given the incentive I could do irreparable damage to his reputation. Even his mother on the council couldn’t save him.

Not, that I would. Sometimes the threat is enough, and I certainly hope that this is one of those times. I could also hurt him physically. Call it a spar. We find such practises as Agni Kais barbaric, but who could possibly account for accidents? Not two masters, of course not, what are you on about?

“The others will follow me!” Could this _be_ more cliché? He may have chosen them well, but he forgets to account for what it means for every single one of them to shun the honour of being part of this, part of a new sequence that our Sister Tribe brought to us.

“Will they?” I shrug, “We can let it play out, if you like. But think about it for a moment. While I’ve been doing nothing but heling things along on a personal level, you’ve been the one at the head pointing out mistakes with a condescending air.”

“ _I_ am condescending? _You’re_ the arrogant one! The favoured one!”

So there lies the heart of the problem, as I thought. Because Pakku was my teacher, I’m regarded as favoured along with talented. Hiraku was his student as well, and should have also received that prestige. He still does, to a degree, in addition to his mother’s connections.

But I’ve stolen some of his thunder in finishing early, in being called a prodigy. Not a perfect little one, no, I acted out enough for that not to be attributed to me, but being perfect wasn’t enough to step out from my shadow for Hiraku, it seems.

I wait a moment to allow him to catch his breath. He’s a bit embarrassed to have shouted, I can tell. Looking immature compared to me of all people is an achievement. I’d feel accomplished. Then again, most people make an effort to appear grown-up.

“I wonder whether they’ll give up the chance to be part of something that could, if implemented properly, make the difference between the lives and deaths of a few hundred people.”

He rears back as if slapped. I did, verbally and if it’s not stinging yet, my next words will ensure it. “Now, will you get your act together, or do I need to ask _Master Pakku_ to supervise the men because you can’t?”

And that, that cuts deepest. For me to insinuate that his old master had better never let him go, that Pakku needs to fix his mistakes, that’s me gouging out a pound of flesh from his pride.

This is my petty little revenge.

He can count himself lucky that I’m not into public humiliation.

His lips press into a white line, his fists clench at his sides and I’m expecting another attack any time soon, half-hoping for his hurt to hold so much sway over him that he gives in and revises his approach.

He does neither. Instead, he surprises me and reigns in his emotions. “I have underestimated you.”

I don’t smother the amusement that bubbles in my chest. “Everyone does.”

He runs a hand over his oiled hair. He seems frustrated, unsteady and suddenly oddly defeated. His fur-wrapped shoulders lower as his head does in a half-bow. “I can see that now. You… have my apologies.”

Oh, that must’ve hurt. He’s even using the proper gestures for a semi-official apology.

I nod cordially, even a bit meanly, completing the small ritual. “So,” I extend my hand, “Shall we work together from now on?”

He shakes it like it’s causing him physical pain. Who knows, it might be.

It might also be causing me joy to believe it does.

.

A day and a half before the night of the full moon, I’ve managed to get everyone to harmonise dry, but with actual bending, someone always messes up. It’s clear why. Someone always struggles with the rhythm, the meshing of desires. I expect it. but some are getting too excited. I am, too, but I’ll save my enthusiasm for smug satisfaction once we’ve accomplished our goal.

Admittedly, it’s a steep one – excuse the pun. But we’re master waterbenders, and that title stands for something.

It gets better with every try, even manages to be large enough that we move to the wall. Our best run so far has spanned along the entire bay’s width and reached the height of our waists as we stand on the city wall. Then someone got excited again.

Emotions can’t actually be felt in harmonised bending but that sort of quivering in our bending is unmistakable.

“Alright, lunch break,” I tell the benders who are all too happy with my decision. Some are sweating with exertion. That’s just poor stamina.

Hiraku silently disagrees with me, but he doesn’t know that soon enough it’ll be hailing fireballs. At least he’s stopped his little gestures and faces that bothered me in the first place. For the sake of our partnership, I even go so far as to share my special Yugoda-brew with him.

His face when he tastes it does something funny, then he looks at me, and eyes his cup suspiciously.

“It’s meant to be this bitter,” I reassure him, and watch him debate whether he should take another sip.

Overhead, the Avatar’s flying bison makes for the palace at break-neck speeds.

Hiraku swallows another mouthful and grimaces.

“An acquired taste,” I admit with a quirk of my mouth, “But it helps with staying awake and alert.”

He nods silently, expression still slightly pinched. Suddenly, all he seems to be to me is painfully inexperienced. Like a child tasting coffee for the first time and realising it doesn’t match their palate, only to keep drinking to seem grown-up. He’s lived his entire life in this bubble of a society. The most foreign agent in all of this is me. And I’ve not been the best first contact.

Ever since we were children, Pakku’s students, I’ve been nothing but an irritant to him.

Inside my head, I laugh at myself. All these realisations because of this meagre substitute for coffee.

I search my basket that I brought the tea in for some of that sweet honey I packed together with the double-layered clay canister that I needed to have specially made, only for it to be sold like, well, the most useful thing since the invention of hot showers. These two things are mostly what convinced the civilians that I’m a genius. We’ve only installed them in the public bathhouses, though.

“Here,” I offer the honey to Hiraku. He stares at it a little, hesitant.

“That’s expensive.” He doesn’t seem the type to worry about what costs what. He’s lived his entire life with a silver spoon in his mouth. So why care now? Does he think I’m not as well-off? I get a princess’ guard’s salary. It more than gets me by.

“I don’t want it to go to waste,” I say, daring him to tell me that honey doesn’t go bad.

He looks both confused and irritated now. Slowly, he reaches out for the small jar. At this rate, the tea will be cold before the sweet stuff has dissolved. Spirits. What’s wrong with a little impatience?

I decide to ignore him and his uneducated watertribe poise. Maybe I should get out more, spread my personal brand of enlightenment among the younger generation.

Next to me, Hiraku makes a noise of pleasant surprise.

Spirits, this man-child will be the death of me.

.

It’s Pakku who brings us the news. His face and posture are tight. Hiraku and I share a brief look. As his former students, we can read the mood, and it does not bode well for anyone who shows the old master ‘impertinence’.

“The Fire Nation is attacking,” he speaks quietly, but his voice carries even now. All activity around us halts. On some faces, I see apprehension. Others are already fearful.

When they meet my eyes, though, they straighten up. Good. They’ll be needing that pride later. If I, the city’s most privileged bender am not afraid, how could they allow themselves to be?

“The fleet is only hours away. Our patrols must have been wiped out before they could strike alarm.”

Which is unfortunate. Undoubtedly, there were some friends among them. One could hope that before the actual siege, the Fire Nation still felt charitable enough to take prisoners and that we have the opportunity to free them.

“Well…” I say, more to myself than anyone else, “Shit. There goes my date.”

Hiraku smiles, and some of the men chuckle. My date, as it were, would have been the evening shift for Yue, since Arnook’s noticed that she’s been sneaking out alone. He knows that I’d have just gone and escorted her to her meeting place with Sokka, but someone would have been with her and that’s what he cares about. That I wouldn’t say anything to Yue about it is why she wouldn’t protest.

I pull Pakku aside to suggest a strike team sinking ships from underwater. He both hates and loves the idea. Hates, I have no idea why, but loves because Pakku, no matter how strict he seems, has nothing against sabotaging the enemy.

So he gives me seven rested benders and I lead them into the bowels of the city, where when you open the passage to one particular cellar, you arrive at the entrance to the tunnels that lead you outside the city. The water level rises with the tide, so sometimes the room is entirely flooded, but tonight we get to pick which one to take on dry land.

In some cases, it doesn’t matter, because they meet beneath the city. But in this case, we need to be quick to engage, and so choosing the correct one is important.

Thankfully, one of the other benders, Talak, a middle-aged man with a thick beard knows these tunnels well. He’s one of the few seal hunters we have. He leads our descent.

We leave the city through one of the tunnels that open up into the ocean about a mile in front of the gate. The tunnels are checked over regularly, and too long for even seals to make use of to invade our city from below. We’re in a large, bullet-shaped bubble of air that two of us propel forward fitted perfectly to the diameter of the tunnel. It’s large enough that the air might last us until we’re back out of range of the Fire Nation ships.

If not, well, we’re waterbenders, we can navigate dangerous waters. Usually, it’s us that make them unsafe in the first place. It’s not like we’re pirates. But we do like to control who enters our territories.

We’re too fast to see much, but the ship isn’t hard to find.

It looks out of place in this bay of ours. We know it well, from above the waves, and beneath.

It’s easy to sink by prying the metal hull apart at the seams. It’s done so quickly, I’m almost concerned that it’s a trap. No doubt, in the long run it sort of is, with all that oil spillage. But thankfully, these are warships. There are no large oil tanks aboard. Just enough to get here, muck about a bit, and go back. Besides, there are methods of cleaning it away. It will take weeks, but if we all work together, and isolate the oils, we might even have some to power the experimental machinery that we don’t have. Those are thoughts for another time.

We gain some distance and watch as some of the crew rescue themselves into a small longboat. The others must still be trapped inside.

I make the decision to scout the numbers of the rest of the fleet. So we surface for air, and sink back down into the black depths of our element.

The first one wasn’t a trap, but it was a ship they did not expect to see return, because taking out three of the larger ones takes a bit more work. The hull is double-layered, and we’re forced to open up the hull in various places. The ships are so large, they’ve built separate compartments that they can completely close off and remain seaworthy.

We sample only those three, but we do wait to see how many soldiers drown, and how many are rescued. No sense in wasting a perfectly good opportunity for gauging their numbers.

There are Komono Rhinos attempting to tread the water, but their weight proves too much of a challenge. Each of the ships we sink have several trebuchets and must have at least a hundred soldiers each, and those are only the numbers we definitely see. About half of them drown before the other ships send out longboats to rescue them. I hope they all get pneumonia.

Carefully, I avoid thinking of them as people.

Upon our return there is a large crater in the wall, but the rest of the city seems to have survived unscathed, except for the towers of ice, each holding a cooling metal orb, spanning a man’s length in diameter, and three in height.

Pakku and Arnook greet us in front of the gate to the streets of the city.

“Well?” Pakku demands, eyes flickering over each of us, satisfied not to see blood.

“There must be about a hundred and twenty Empire class battleships on their way. We took out three of the larger ones. They had Komodo Rhinos and Fire Nation Cruisers on board. Not to mention the trebuchets.” I let my eyes wander to one icy popsicle tower they erected in our absence. “The larger ones have compartments they can seal off to remain afloat even as the hull is breached. It’s double-layered, and I suspect that parts of it can be removed if the outer layer becomes too damaged. There are at least a hundred soldiers and at least ten rhinos to a ship.”

“Very well,” Arnook thinks for a moment as he takes us in, mostly smug and only slightly worse for wear. “How effective would multiple such expeditions be? Could we reasonably pick off those that are close enough to pose a danger to our walls without better spending those efforts in defending the city?”

Pakku and I trade a look, both calculating. This wasn’t particularly tiring, but could we eight have been of better use here, had we not been needed to scout? No. The fiery projectiles were all caught before doing any damage, except the one buried in the city wall.

“If we chose strategically… The ships with the most trebuchets, then the ones with the most chances of breaching the wall,” I suggest, and Pakku nods thoughtfully.

“Can you judge which ones they are from below the surface?”

I exchange glances with my fellow scouts. No, we can’t.

“Then, we’ll need the Avatar’s help.”

Aang, it seems, has already been helping out, destroying trebuchets, and admiring our work from above. We rest while we wait for him to return from his… rampage.

A determined airbending master can deal out a lot of damage.

With how he lost his entire people not a few months ago, he’s fairly goal-orientated to keep the Fire Nation at bay. Or outside of our bay.

It’s decided that it will be Sokka, as well as one of the more observationally adept warriors who will go up with him, to mark the positions of the ships we want sabotaged the most. They both have good eyesight, and that will be necessary for accurately gathering the information we need.

Before we prepare even more, we hold war council. This is where we determine objectives and missions. Some clear order with a clear purpose will do everyone good.

Currently, some of the citizens look like they’re getting ready to play headless chicken. Tui and La save us all from that nightmare.

We don’t really practise what to do in the case of an invasion. People know to pack their things, though, and supplies, and move towards the palace where they can be directed into the caverns carved from the ice walls surrounding the city. They are emergency shelters at worst, cool hideouts for children at best.

Now, their true purpose will fill them to the brim.

.

Warriors and benders alike have all assembled in the great hall of the palace. It now serves as the war council’s base of operations, and where ideas are carried to the table to be considered. So long as you are someone, you will be heard. Now it pays to have friends. Or be those friends.

“While I am hesitant to launch an attack, we may well be operating on a tight schedule. The numbers we face prove too steep,” Arnook says, as he addresses the assembled troops, “With the moon so close to being full, we should be able to ambush the fleet.”

Pakku steps up to outline what the rough plan is, so that then we can add our ideas. So long as you’re one of those who get one of the cushions to sit on, you can speak. Very liberal. It’s about the money, after all.

“We have decided to send out several strike teams to take out the ships from underwater, as we did this afternoon to find out their numbers. While the Fire Navy will be busy rescuing their fellow soldiers from drowning, the group of thirty who have been practising the new sequence from the Avatar will perform the wave two miles outside the city and freeze it, to add another layer of defence.”

Not bad. Not bad at all. Provided we manage to raise it high enough to deter any burning projectiles. But we should be able to. Maybe, with the almost-full moon, we can add another one, directly behind it to stop any battleships that come through. The Fire Navy would be forced into their longboats.

We could also incorporate the metal projectiles we received into the outer wall, so that when the walls are inevitably breached, the wall can be unfrozen and sent to slam into the fleet.

If the double-layered hull is too time consuming to breach in multiple places, destroy the fuckers with their own creation.

I raise my hand to make the suggestion. Pakku, to be annoying, ignores me in favour of Hahn. Even though he knows we’re friends. Pakku’s such a petty old man sometimes. He still hasn’t gotten over his drunken confessions the other day.

Well, I’ll speak with his blessing, or without. Arnook is my friend, after all.

“What about the infiltration plan? We could still take out the commander,” Hahn suggests in the tone of someone who believes he can do no wrong.

Sokka is quick to shoot him down from his place beside Aang. “I thought we were over this already! The Fire Nation uniforms you have are too old-fashioned, everyone who sees you will know about your plan.”

“Then we’ll just have to steal some newer uniforms!” Hahn bites back. It seems tensions were running high while I was out playing Battleship.

Arnook strokes his beard. “Yes, you are right Hahn. That could work. It is better for us to have multiple options in any case. An additional objective for the strike teams, then. If it is possible, I would like for us to get our hands on some uniforms.”

That sounds fine. And since Hahn isn’t an idiot, I know he can manage to take out Zhao.

I raise my hand again. Pakku narrows his eyes at me, but nods for me to speak. Dear Spirits does this feel like school all over again. Not, that I really sat in a proper classroom this time around.

“About the additional wall of ice, how about we make that two? As far as I can tell, their ships are good for one breach, then they are stuck. So, if they plan on breaking through the wall, we could further delay them with a secondary one below the surface. This would also give us the time to sink the ships or take out their trebuchets. We should be able to manage it. I would also suggest raising platforms from which our benders can defend the city in the bay. If we can prevent them from taking the battle to us, we have the advantage of the ocean.”

There is a bit of silence after that, then Arnook smiles grimly. “Yes,” he nods. “I entrust this task to both Master Pakku and you, Kaito.”

Pakku looks at me like he’s never seen me before and I shrug. It isn’t like no one else could have thought of that.

He and I leave the others to it. There is no time to be wasted.

.

Close to sundown, the Fire Navy halts their assault. With the reprieve, the Avatar returns.

By the time I’ve rounded up and instructed the thirty men whom I’ve been training for the last few days on our task, the moon is firmly up in the sky and we’ve gathered all the metal projectiles. We get five other benders to bring us and our cargo to where the wall is supposed to be erected about one and a half miles in front of the city.

They are also our defenders, should the Fire Navy decide to resume their attack early. I doubt it, but you never know.

Meanwhile, Pakku has assembled and sent out the strike teams. That’s almost half of the entire numbers of waterbenders in the city outside of it tonight. The others are preparing for battle, or resting.

We line up along the cordially provided shells of ice our escorts bended, and centre ourselves. No more second tries. No more ‘better next time’s.

“Alright, let’s make this count!” Hiraku shouts and we begin the sequence.

We move with purpose. This is our first line of defence, and we love our city, our home. We make it count. Once the water has risen high enough, we transform it into ice. It’s something we do well, since we’ve all been stationed at the city gates. The only tricky thing about it is forcing the foundation of our wall to withstand the tides of the ocean, and a few warships. It feels powerful, to know that this construct of ice is our work, and it will stand tall.

The incorporation of the metal projectiles the Fire Nation gifted us takes more cooperative precision-work. Hiraku and I manage well. He thaws the ice in the right place, and I insert the metal smoothly before we re-seal the wall together.

I daresay, that tea earlier wasn’t wasted after all.

The finished wall of ice looks magnificent. It’s thick enough that the metal is only visible if one looks very closely. The enemy will have telescopes, but it’s nighttime.

“Good work!” I shout and receive tired smiles in return. “Now remember, if they do break through, we can always sneak out and unfreeze it to sweep up the ships waiting on the other side.”

Again, I am stared at like I’ve grown a second head. Which I have not. I would notice that.

We move about half a battleship’s length back and craft the secondary wall, so that it’ll just about kiss the surface when the tide recedes, which won’t be that much this far north, but we do want to give the Fire Navy a surprise. We waterbenders love those.

To my own private surprise, Hiraku decides to show his bloodthirsty side. “How about we make spikes to skewer the ships underwater?”

I grin at him. “Yes! Great idea! If anyone else wants to get creative, now’s the time!”

The men do indeed get creative. Turns out, we’re all quite violent, when afforded the opportunity.

An hour before sunrise, the bay has hidden traps all over, just beneath the surface. The water will be red by the time the fighting’s done. We return to the city, and relay our success. Not, that it’s not evident. In the moonlight, that wall looks imposing. Smooth and gleaming, a dare. Come, if you will. We’ll be waiting.

The rested benders listen to our accounts of the positions of our traps, which one is where, how they work, and so on. Then they set out to familiarise themselves with them, and perhaps refine them a little.

By sunrise, the strike teams have also re-entered the city. No casualties, and five new Fire Nation uniforms are with them. Two for benders, three for normal soldiers. The distinction lies in the weight and quality of the materials.

I’m slightly disappointed to have missed the forty or so ships they sunk.

The benders sent out are set to rest and the others available ready themselves for the incoming attacks.

.

After a quick meal and some sleep Hiraku wakes me for some strategy discussions.

The wall is holding up well so far, no break-throughs yet and it’s past midday. I have a feeling that won’t last too long. We determine that the men should move back out now. Hiraku will have command, out in the bay, and I will join them if necessary, hopefully with the Avatar and some healers. The women have assembled themselves into squads of four, and will be ready to receive injured. Aang has gone to the Spirit Oasis to meditate. While I wish him success, I do hope he hurries up.

We meet Pakku en-route, and while Hiraku goes to assemble our unit, Pakku explains to me that Hahn and I have been given free reign over the infiltration mission.

“How come?” I ask, slightly confused as to my involvement in another operation.

“He says he needs someone whose skill he can trust. You’ve been sparring with each other for years now, I’m confident you can manage this,” he says this, and looks a bit like he’d rather not. “And not many of us have the stature to fit into the uniform they brought back.”

I nod slowly. Hiraku will be fine. He knows what’s at stake and he’s not a bad commander.

With a short farewell, I leave to find Hahn. We decide to grab some lunch from one of the many open food stalls that have been spread all over the city, to keep the fighters energised and some of the civilians busy. Hahn hasn’t eaten in a few hours, and I won’t have the time for the foreseeable future. He moves ahead to our meeting point with the others who have volunteered for this mission while I get some grub for all of us.

“Good luck,” the man who hands me our bowls, Kassuq says, solemn.

I’ve known him since I was a child, and give him my best mischievous grin. “No worries. I’m good at saving my hide.”

“I’ll say,” he agrees, thinking back on all the times I’ve raced past his stall on the marketplace to escape the warriors chasing me.

“Stay safe.” They’re meant as my last words for him today, but the sudden worry on his visage tells me he thought he’d be entirely safe in the city walls. I pause, and look him in the eye. “We don’t plan on letting them through, believe me, but if they do, hide with your family. That’s what the bunkers in the ice are for. Don’t go to the palace. If they breach the city, that’s where they’ll be headed.”

His face is visibly trying to contort into a mask of fear, but he’s valiantly holding it back. “What you’re doing here,” I say, looking down at my food for a moment, “Is invaluable. You’re a good man, Kassuq.”

His lips thin and he nods. I do believe he’ll stay and keep feeding the hungry fighters.

“I’m off, then,” I give him a grin to lighten his mood. Perhaps, with me behaving a bit more like my usual self, he can believe that everything will be alright. It’s the small things, after all, that keep us sane.

“Leave the city standing, will you?” He grumbles, and I’ve heard variations of that sentence many times over the years. Yes, he’ll be fine.

“No promises!”

.

When I arrive back at our little planning room in the barracks, where we’ve been provided a large round table, and a map of the city and the bay that someone helpfully marked our lovely little walls in, the others of our team have already arrived.

To my surprise, Kesuk is there. For some reason, I’d expected him to be out in the bay, but he’s less of a group fighter, if I remember correctly from patrols together, and better at one-on-one confrontations. In a surprise attack, he’s precise and quick.

The two other warriors are veterans of various skirmishes with the Fire Nation, and I’ve seen them around, but never been on a patrol with them.

All of them look up when I enter, and look pleased about the food that comes with my presence. I hand them out quickly and settle in one of the chairs along the wall.

“Thank you,” they murmur before tucking in. Seems they are all hungry, and I use the opportunity to observe them. Kesuk eats relatively cleanly, but doesn’t always worry about shutting his mouth to chew. Which is slightly revolting, but I don’t have to look at his mouth. Hahn, I know, eats with the manners befitting his station as Arnook’s son-in-law-to-be, but quickly like he might be worried someone will take his food from him if he doesn’t finish first.

The other two take their time, and murmur to each other. “Didn’t know Kassuq was one of the food stalls still out.”

The other nods, “Didn’t peg him for one not to go with his family.”

“Good of him to stay.”

“Mhm.”

From those tidbits I infer that we’ll all manage well together. We’re all decent human beings, more or less.

Once they’ve all eaten, we move to surround the table and the map. I’m still chewing, but receive no irritated looks. I won’t be speaking with my mouth full, either, so I suppose there’s nothing to complain about, since I don’t chew loudly.

“As you know, my name is Hahn,” he introduces himself, “I am the mission leader, and I’ll be glad to have your assistance in planning our tasks.” It’s not as conceited as it could’ve been. Perhaps Sokka’s absence allows for more of a level head.

The other’s eyes seem to shift naturally to me to be second in line. I swallow my mouthful. “I’m Kaito. I look forward to working with you. I’ll be handling part of the bending side of things.”

“With me,” Kesuk smoothly picks up, and I begin to eat again. “Kesuk.”

It’s the bearded veteran next, “Nauja. I’ve been on the outer patrols for ten years now.”

Outer patrols are those that most often see combat. They also tend to die a lot. It’s a position of great danger, and therefore generates great respect.

“Onartok,” the last one of us says, “I was a weaponsmith before my son took over, and I joined the patrols.”

Once we’ve all acknowledged each other, Hahn, spreads his hands over the map to smooth the crinkles. I’ve finished my bowl, and set it aside.

“Right.” He begins, nodding. “Our objective is to prevent the commander of the enemy fleet to reach his own objective. That would be successfully invading and conquering us. For that, we believe he will attempt to reach the palace and either capture or kill our chieftain.

“Kaito. You were the commander of the wall-unit before I requested you to be on this mission. While I have faith in you and your benders, holding off a hundred empire class warships won’t be an easy feat. How certain are you that the city won’t be breached?”

I smile wryly. “The unit is on its way out now, to unfreeze the first wall, and hopefully destroy a large number of enemy ships with a large wave. We incorporated the lovely little metal presents into the outer wall. I believe that it will be very effective. However, we can only do this twice, and the next time they will be ready for it.” I am silent for a moment, and allow them to take in the situation properly.

“The traps all over the bay, together with our benders and warriors will further prevent ships from reaching the city wall. But my estimation is that five to ten ships will reach the city and any number of them could breach the wall. These ship’s hulls are made for ramming and piercing at full speed. If the benders in the bay can prevent them from reaching that speed, maybe three could actually enter the city,” I pause again, and then give them more numbers. “That’s about a hundred soldiers, if not more, and ten or more Komondo rhinos each. Not to mention the benders.”

The silence once I’ve spoken is palpable. Put into words, it does seem like insane odds. How does the Fire Navy even have this many soldiers? They must be _all_ they have. If we win this… the Fire Nation won’t be able to recover easily. This could be devastating.

For both sides.

The Nothern Watertribe has about three-hundred waterbenders. A third are women, and therefore healers. Some even have a bit of fighting experience, because we don’t send them on patrols when they could be a complete liability, even if they’re meant to help. But those are perhaps… twenty at most. Warriors range from four hundred to six, depending on whether you count the ones in training.

“Half of _our_ bending fighting force is out in the bay, at all times. A third of the warriors have joined them, I believe,” I add, when no one says anything.

“My guess is that Admiral Zhao will be part of the troops that enter the city. He’ll want to claim victory with his own hands, if what the southerner has told us about him is true,” Hahn states, face grim.

He points to the map. “If they know anything about the layout of our city, they will aim to breach the city wall here.” He indicates the spots on both sides of the gate. The canal behind that first stretch of wall will be another line of defence. “And the most likely route to the palace is along here.”

We all lean in close. There are quite a few opportunities for ambushes. One even only a few houses down from my own.

“Since we have the uniforms, we need to find a way to infiltrate his personal escort,” Nauja points out.

“The most chaos, and so the most opportune time will be here,” Kesuk gestures to the stretch of ice between the large canal and the city.

Onatork nods, “We’ll have need of a distraction, early on. How do we recognise him?”

“Admirals wear slightly different uniforms. He has broader shoulder guards and a cape. If he doesn’t wear a helmet, we can look out for a man with large sideburns. I think he might choose to ride the rhinos. According to the southerner he’s too proud to disguise himself as one of the common soldiers, or his bodyguards,” Hahn informs us with slight emphasis on ‘the southerner’. What happened between them? Did he find out about Yue and Sokka? Did Yue woman up?

No. Now is not the time.

“If we don’t manage to replace his escort before he enters the city, where will be our second attempt?” Nauja asks, studying the map intently.

We point out and discard or decide on ambush places. We’ll have to set them up before nightfall. By then the city will have been breached. We will also need to set up some safeguards to the Spirit Oasis. Perhaps one or two warriors could stand guard, as protection for the Avatar. Katara might be there, but she’s only been Pakku’s student for a short time. And against several benders, should we fail, she will be next to powerless once the sun rises.

I should stop by. I have no intention of having Yue die. Or the Spirits.

The work is split between the five of us. Kesuk and Onatork set up our ambush points, Nauja speaks with Arnook about helping hands for them, Hahn informs the warriors of our plans, and how they can identify us – a band of blue around our left biceps, just about visible enough peeking out from the uniforms. In the darkness, it will only be visible if one knows to look for it.

I go to check on the Spirit Oasis.

Wish Yue luck and patience, maybe, depending on her mood. I’ve not seen her since the snot-bending incident.

I find Katara, Sokka and Yue in the process of climbing onto Appa’s large back.

“What’s happening?” I question, my voice stopping them in their tracks.

Yue lets go of Sokka’s hand to run towards me. “Aang’s been taken! The Fire Nation prince is here and he’s taken Aang while he was in the Avatar State!”

Ah. Right. Shite. That was the reason there was no one there to stop Zhao in the first place.

The southern watertribe siblings are impatient. They will search for Aang no matter what I say. But Yue… I look at her. She’ll not stay here, waiting. Not when she’s found her resolve.

“You need a guide. You can’t go without someone experienced. A healer, too, just in case,” I tell her. “Fly to the healer’s huts first. Yugoda will help you.”

Yue nods, relief and determination in her face now. A plan was what she needed.

“You’re not coming?” Sokka asks, accusation clear in his tone.

“I have to defend my city.”

His face contorts as he accepts this response with a nod and I help Yue into the saddle. “Stay safe out there. Listen to the healer,” I tell them, watch their faces with apprehension that I don’t let them see. “And don’t die.”

“You too!”

.

Two hours after midday, the first ship breaches the outer wall.

It’s almost a relief, after waiting, watching every fiery projectile that hits the wall almost melt through it before it is stopped, and sealed. Every time, there was the worry that one would make it through, with the knowledge that one _would_. That was how we intended it, after all. But the anxiety was close to driving me mad as I remained calm on the outside for the benefit of the others. And myself, but it was the concern for the city and its inhabitants that kept me waiting instead of joining Hiraku and the others.

The front of the ship is pushed into the air by the secondary wall. Soon, the defending benders have skewered it. The second one manages to get the soldiers and some rhinos onto longboats to make for the city, but the traps all over the bay do their work. By the time the tenth ship has unloaded its contents into the bay, the wall is a construct doomed. The Fire Navy also seems to have figured out the degree of the angles their trebuchets need to go over the wall, but also hit the city.

From my vantage point on the inner wall, I can see Hiraku and half of the wall-unit work tirelessly to repair it, and finally, switch into combat mode. From here, wind biting at my face, it seems almost like stick figures are playing games with one another.

It is so far from this impression that the dissonance leaves me feeling as though I were acting outside of my body.

Part of me is with Yue, searching for the Avatar. I heard Yugoda herself, and Buniq went with them. A good team of healers and experience outside.

Another part is wondering where all my panic went.

Probably somewhere outside of my body as well, just waiting to take control of it.

The stick figures of my wall-unit take over control of the wall as other waterbenders distract the enemy inside of the bay. It manages to crush about seventy battleships beneath the powerful wave of water and metal. They even manage to raise the secondary wall as high as the first one was.

The original strike teams, rested and fed, spread out across the city wall to man the inbuilt defences until the exhausted men return. Then, they and a few hundred warriors spread out into the bay, onto the platforms we crafted for this last night to renew the traps and take on the incoming longboats.

Once the sun sets, the secondary wall is just as doomed as the first, and takes another forty ships down. Things aren’t going too badly. The sharks will feast for days.

The remaining ten battleships attempt to plough through the traps the longboats got stuck on, but Hiraku and the men are the ones who set them up and the beauty of water is that it is changeable. Soon, the Fire Nation is shrouded with mist and attacked from all sides. Two make it to the city.

Both breach the wall. But the defenders are nothing if not determined.

I spot Zhao and Iroh. I manage to get in close enough through the fighting to hear what they’re saying over the sounds of violent confrontation all around.

“We are following this map to a very special location. And when we get there, we are going fishing,” Zhao says and smiles a bloodthirsty smile.

I meet up with Hahn and the others for one last time.

“Their target is the Spirit Oasis.”

Eyes widening, then narrowing, their determination to fulfil this mission successfully rises tenfold. Hahn and I decide on two ambushes. One to take the place of Zhao’s escort, the other to take him out however possible.

We have the other disguised bender lie in wait closer to the palace with two more warriors for the actual takedown. The three warriors and I will have a squad of undisguised ambushers lead an attack, during which Zhao and Iroh are distracted, so that we can replace at least two of the guards.

It’s a complete mess, but I manage to get in position on one of the rhinos, shedding my Watertribe coat as I do so. Hahn does the same. The rest of our unit die.

Which, fuck. Inacceptable.

I’ve seen more death in the last hours than ever before in my life. And I’m pretty sure I should feel more than slight disappointment. Hahn does, I can tell with the way he sits. He’s horrified by their deaths.

At Hahn’s signal, the second ambush takes on the remaining guards and another bender takes on Iroh. Hahn holds his own against two of the benders by sicking the rhino on one and swiftly taking down the other.

I take care of Zhao by way of beheading him while he’s busy making a warrior dance. Iroh surrenders.

It’s all quite anticlimactic. Or I’m just functioning on the basest of instincts.

Then, Hahn is killed by one of the guards. A roar tears itself from my throat. How the fuck could I just assume with these two out of the fight, it’d be over?

Just as I step up to avenge my friend, the spirit of the moon is killed.

It is like a punch to the heart. I falter, stumble. The same happens to my fellow bender who just finished encasing Iroh in ice up to his neck. The moon turns a lovely shade of red. I gasp.

A failsafe. Zhao had a failsafe.

Why did I think he wouldn’t trust anyone else with his knowledge, his quest to make history? Above all else, he wanted to be known for defeating the Northern Watertribe, defeating powerful spirits themselves. Why did I believe that he would be the incompetent Disney villain? Ah, Nikelodeon more like.

“No…”, Iroh whispers as he stares into the blood red sky. I’ve landed on something sharp.

The guard I was about to skewer turns on me. It is only years of training with Hahn that save my life. I roll on the ground, pick up a fallen sword to brush aside the flames he punches at me with a flick of the wrist. Ah, this is going to be a pain. I only hope Iroh won’t decide to join in on the new game of ‘who can hit the defenceless waterbender?’. I’m also quite glad that the Fire Nation uniforms ward off flames. I’d have second degree burns all over my arms if I wasn’t wearing one.

He’s pretty good, never letting me in too close, but I manage to herd him towards a fallen rhino and he falters. Finally, I get a clear shot in. I disable his attack, swipe at his knee and once he’s down… I know the neck armour is sturdy, so I shove my entire bodyweight behind the strike. The firebender dies by way of open throat.

I collapse to my knees. All my energy feels like it’s been drained. I never knew I depended so much on my bending. The only reason I’m not flopping on the ground like my fellow waterbender does, is because I’ve lived thirty years as a normal human.

I look at Iroh, who is still staring at the moon, shell-shocked. I take off the faceguard and spit out some blood. That can’t be good. Finally, he notices me. His eyes take in the bloody sword in my hand and the dead guard.

He melts the ice trapping him away in a matter of seconds.

“Gonna finish me off?” I ask and give him a bloody smile.

Iroh shakes a tired head.

“Ha, the Dragon of the West, showing mercy. How kind,” I laugh, then cough and more blood lands on the ground. “Fine then. Help me to the Spirit Oasis, would you?”

He moves to help me up in a daze. An arm slung across his shoulders, I shove the helmet off. It was awfully restricting. It’s a good thing we set up the second ambush so close to the palace. That means we don’t have a long way.

So short and yet so far. I refuse to allow myself to believe the worst is already in motion. I can still stop her.

I hobble a little faster, and the kind old enemy complies with a grim visage.

We make it there just in time to see Yue give her life to the Moon.

The squeezing sensation in my chest that I hadn’t noticed until now eases. I take a deep, shuddering breath. Never again do I want to feel _that_. The red light turns silver. Yue appears as a ghost in front of Sokka.

And the squeezing sensation returns tenfold as realisation sets in.

She’s sacrificed herself.

She _sacrificed_ herself.

I let go of the general, and sink to my knees, stomach rebelling at the sight. She’s transparent.

See-through. Yue is see-through.

She doesn’t even get a proper death to move on, she’s the fucking moon. The moon. Long after all she’s known is dead, all she’s sacrificed herself for will be gone, and she will still be the moon.

She’s telling Sokka something. She kisses him.

Then she turns around and looks at me. “Don’t make that face,” she says, voice suddenly full of tears, “You’ve never made that face before.”

“What,” I force out, “Other face have I got?”

She laughs wetly. “I’ll miss you.”

I blink to force the tears away.

“I’ll be watching.” That’s what worries me.

She loses the last of her pigment, fading. Into the moon.

Covering my mouth, I suppress the scream, smothering it into a gurgle that sounds more animal than human from my own throat.

A touch on my shoulder.

I don’t know who it is. Don’t care.

Both Yue and Hahn are dead.

They’re gone.

“Kaito,” I hear Yugoda’s voice from beside me. It is her hand on my shoulder.

I look up in time to see Aang step into the pond and promptly vanish. Oh goodie. Avatar Hulk in motion.

I laugh wetly and allow the old healer to tug me to the pond. She peals aside my torn and bloodied uniform, and begins to heal them. Soon another set of hands joins her.

So that’s why I’m coughing up blood. I have a puncture wound in my ribcage, just below the left armpit. I focus on nothing but the sensation of their bending as they restore my health and energy. Better to just. Not.

I get to my feet when they’re done. I make a noise that could be an expression of gratitude, but I have no desire to speak.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I turn to look at the siblings on the other side of the pond. Then I notice someone lying face-down in the grass. The weird shaven head with the single pony-tail can only be Zuko. His uncle is on his way to him.

I watch, passive and wondering whether we should take them prisoner.

But I doubt that it would end well.

So how do we get them out? I want, if at all possible, to avoid more fights. I hope Aang manages to clear the Fire Nation out of the city. Then we can… clean up.

I look at the bundle of uniform at my feet.

Zuko can have those. I pick them up silently, and the healers and the sibling watch as I move towards the general and his nephew.

The general understands immediately what I intend and redoubles his efforts to wake the prince.

It is a startling awakening, and only the presence of his uncle seems to calm Zuko somewhat. I remain silent as I put the clothes into his hands.

“Thank you,” Iroh says. “That is very kind.”

All I do is shrug at him and turn around to give the prince some privacy. I note that I’m not wearing much but the skin-tight breeches of the uniform that they wear underneath all of the protective layers.

I decide that it won’t be too weird to wear Zuko’s white outfit. If anything, it might be good to wear it and see to it that Aang hasn’t overlooked any enemy soldiers.

“What…” someone finally asks. Katara. Right. They’re still here.

Yugoda speaks before she can find the right words to ask her question. “We must get to the healing huts and tend to the injured. Kaito, will you begin the process in the bay, like it was intended?”

I nod at her.

She scrutinises me for a moment. Then she leaves, Buniq by her side.

The prince’s white outfit is a little too short on my legs and too snug around the shoulders, but it’s only until I get some new clothes. Likewise, the uniform is too large for Zuko, but he only needs to get back to the battleships, steal another and then it won’t matter anymore.

“You’ll have to find another helmet. You’re quite recognisable,” I tell him and pull the hood over my features. I have to get to the wall, see how many died. I hope they took out most of the ships before the Moon died. Before-

No.

I take a deep breath. “Avoid confrontations, please.”

The general nods. “We intend to. Thank you.”

I nod.

Then they’re gone.

“What…” Katara begins again, but a look from me stops her words in her throat. Not now.

I take a deep breath. “We need all who can still help in the bay. You can heal. Please help my people,” I plead, and she nods, mute.

Okay. Right.

I look at the one other person as stricken as myself. Only he has been allowing his tears to fall freely. Spirits. Sokka.

Traumatised beyond belief.

“Sokka?” I ask. I won’t force him, but… we need his help. We need everyone’s help.

He looks at me silently. Right. So. Gentle won’t work. “You’ve got a job to do, don’t you, Sokka?”

“Yeah, like what? The Chief said to protect…”, the tears begin to spill again, “To protect Yue,” he whispers. His hands dangle loosely at his sides again.

“I get it, Sokka,” I say, voice quiet, rough and damn near screaming again if I raise it any more than this, “Yue was... my friend. But right now. Right now, we have to make sure the ones who are still alive survive!”

I can’t stop the violent outburst, and abruptly I turn away from him.

Fuck it. He’ll follow if he’s got any sort of compartmentalising abilities.

I leave the oasis behind and make my way towards the wall.

Down in the city, the Fire Navy is retreating. They haven’t gotten very far in, with only two ships docking, but the destruction they caused is evident.

“We need to go by the healing huts for supplies,” I say and the siblings follow me without a word.

Yugoda is already in the process of mending burns when we arrive. It’s best to treat those kinds of injuries as quickly as possible for them not to scar.

Without a word, she gestures to pre-packed med-kits. We grab two each and make for the plaza where most of the fighting took place. We come across more and more wounded the closer we get there. The less severe burns we pack with healing salves and bandages, broken bones we mend until there’s no more danger of them rebreaking with a splint and we recruit the able to get more severely wounded to the healing huts.

In the plaza, there is mayhem. Broken bodies lie strewn about, pieces of machinery jut from pillars and piles of ice. The worst part is having to check who is still alive.

“Sokka,” I say and point to where I can see Aang sitting up on the wall, “Go talk to Aang.”

He does so without protest while Katara and I move from wounded to wounded.

When we find another warrior bleeding out, but still alive, I have an idea. It could go horribly wrong. But the moon is still up and he’ll die anyway if it doesn’t work. “Katara,” I say quietly and her head swivels around. “Move on without me.”

She looks like she wants to say something, but then nods after looking at my face. She probably thinks he’s a friend of mine.

With my heart in my throat, I kneel beside him. I take deep breaths, remind myself of how the blood circulation works, how, since his heart’s still beating I only have to guide the blood back into the correct channels and close the wound. I gather the leaking blood on the ground and very slowly guide it to where it needs to be.

I’m not up for more experimenting tonight, and so don’t use the blood as healing agent, but it takes all my concentration to keep the blood flow steady as I knit the flesh slowly, layer by layer.

Katara gasps from beside me and I’m glad I’m close to finished and can allow the heart to do it’s job. “You… what?”

I shrug and get up. There’s nothing more I can do for him. “It was an experiment.”

“ _What_?”

“I wasn’t sure it would work. He would’ve died otherwise,” I tell her and move to the next wounded, who so happens to have long white hair and a broken leg.

“But you can’t just…” she tries to protest, but quiets at the look in my eyes. Evidently, I just did. Evidently, he would have died otherwise.

Pakku manages an imperious look that demands an explanation. “What are you upset about?”

I heal his leg fully, then prod at his forehead where he has a gash that bleeds into his eye.

“He just…” she begins, then takes a deep breath and lowers her voice to a whisper, “He bended _blood_.”

Pakku stiffens. “Kaito…?”

“The warrior was about to die of blood loss. Well, it was all over the ground and the wound wasn’t too big, so I bended his blood back into his body and closed the wound.”

“That…” he seems to have no words for my brilliance. Finally, he settles on: “Yugoda will want to learn.”

“Sure. But only at night. Only close to the full moon.” I pretend like my voice doesn’t fail me at the last word.

He nods and climbs to his feet. “We had best see to the Trap Unit. Who knows how many of them are still out there.”

I nod and we make for the wall. There are still several holes that the Fire Navy punched with the noses of their battleships. “We should make these into landing platforms. Harder to stumble and die, then.”

Pakku manages a scoff, but already we’re bending in tandem, smoothing jutted edges and using rubble to form a sturdy platform in front of the wall. Katara watches, a frown still etched onto her face. I suppose it is good that she’s got strong morals, but it wasn’t like I was deliberately committing any taboo. The same way you can bend sweat you can bend blood. It’s water. Or close enough.

Were I less exhausted, I’d have some fun with getting us to the first group of survivors. As it is, Pakku gets us there because he can’t heal and Katara and I do what we can.

We find some dead, some close to and I manage to save two using the same method from earlier. Pakku watches in fascination, Katara in frustrated constipation.

Then, the sun rises.

We get to the last platform and find Hiraku almost dead. Katara does what she can, but shredded insides are just that hard to knit back together.

I frown and take a seat on his other side. He was a good commander. He got most of the Unit behind lines of warriors during the red moon phase. Some of the more coherent ones asked after him.

“Ha, didn’t think…” he wheezes, “That your face… would be the… last thing… I see…”

I grimace, “Then look to the left. There’s a pretty girl right there. Or the old man. Though even my face must be better than that.”

Hiraku gasps, the beginnings of a laugh on his face, “I… mis… judged you…”

I pat his hand, “Most do. Just how I like it.”

He furrows his brow, “Glad… you… survived.”

I pull my lips between my teeth. Why the sentimental crap now? Sure, he’s dying, but if he weren’t he’d still dislike me just as much. Only now, he wants me to know he respects me, “I’ll tell your sister you love her.”

“I don’t… have… sister, you… ass.”

With that, he dies.

“Good last words,” I say and Pakku chokes on a laugh. Katara, though, just looks at me like I’m scum.

In her eyes, I probably am. She didn’t like me from the very beginning. Then, I let Zuko escape, I’m still wearing the proof of that. I bended blood and now I refused to join in on heartfelt confessions. To her, I’m the worst kind of human being there is. Probably.

I close his unseeing eyes with a brush of my fingers. Hiraku lost his parents early, I think, and doesn’t have any siblings. Pakku must’ve been his only real role model and parental figure.

 _Do I need to ask_ Master Pakku _to supervise the men because you can’t?_ Scum indeed.

As I sit back on my heels and let the sun warm my face I wonder what kind of psychological trauma I could be diagnosed with. I grew up with an adult mind in a child’s body and tried to make the most of it. That being said, most of my social interactions consist of annoying Pakku, drinking with Arnook, sparring with Hahn, guarding Yue and sleeping with Lanni when she comes over. I lost my second set of parents whom I loved and depended on to a degree not too long ago. I killed four men last night and probably drowned a few that first day of the siege. I don’t feel any remorse.

To me, they were abstracts, not real solid people. Sometimes, I still have trouble with reconciling myself with the fact that I was reborn into the Avatar universe. That all of this is just as real as my old life. Because it is. (After all, what reality is there, but the one you perceive?)

I am dead tired. Zuko’s clothes are too tight and chafe. I just want a nightcap and then sleep.

But there is still work to be done and people to bully into action. Once the fighting’s done, it’s the civilian’s time to step up.

Wearily I climb to my feet. “Let’s head home.”

The way back, we manage together, all three of us and the bodies pile on. Both the living and the dead.

The plaza looks the same, only the dead have been readied in boats to send to their rest. Civilians are slowly moving about, beginning to take stock of the situation. A few rush over to help the wounded into the city.

What follows is clean-up. The benders who are capable do repairs. The warriors who have the energy carry the parts of machinery they can to one of the supply halls for later examination. The healers who can do anything in their power to keep everyone alive. Civilians provide meals and housing.

I am the one to carry Hahn’s body to shore. I owe him that. The fucker, dying on me in a critical moment. I am also the one to clothe him in his warrior’s garb so he won’t have to make the crossing in a Fire Nation uniform. His father’s dead, too. Better too late than never, eh?

The following night, after I’ve slept for some time, I show Yugoda what I managed to do on a minor wound on one of her apprentice’s forearm. She is suitably impressed and instructs me to write down every detail I remember for her.

Somehow, strangely enough, Team Avatar come visit me while I’m busy with that. I end up giving them all their first drink, and Sokka his second. They sleep in a puppy pile in the middle of the living room. I spread a blanket over them and finish my report.

Once the city looks presentable again and the dead have been sent to their respective rests, I visit Hahn’s house. His father died in the attack, and so his friends and I clear through their stuff. Most of his is already at my place. But his father’s house tells me a story that infuriates.

Neglect of not only home, but also his child. Broken furniture. Bloodstains.

I take a deep breath.

He’s gone.

They’re both dead.

Calm the fuck down.

He was there for me after my mother’s death and I was the one to witness his engagement to Yue. Beautiful Yue with her silent suffering. Had she lived, she should have gone with Sokka, to be free. But she was determined to change the tribe. I wonder… would she have succeeded?

I find Hahn’s mother’s picture amongst his things, along with a dagger I remember Yue giving him. Those two items I keep. The rest I offer up to those whose houses and property were destroyed during the fighting.

The night after that Arnook and I drink ourselves stupid. We might or might not cry on each other a little bit. I try to give him the dagger, but he won’t take it.

Then Pakku tells me that he’s going to visit the Southern Watertribe and giving Team Avatar a ride to the Earth Kingdom. I figure I’d fit right in. Maybe I’ll go find Katara and Sokka’s dad and join his fight against the Fire Nation. Or I find Iroh and Zuko to annoy the prince into hating me more than the Avatar. Could work. I hear Zuko’s pretty easy to rile up.

.

A war is never good. It’s blood and death, tears, agony and pointless.

I’m drunk. In the spirit oasis, staring at the fish that is a powerful spirit whose life continues because Yue gave up hers.

For balance.

For her people.

Because she was brave enough to care about things beyond herself.

Cross-legged and slumped over, one hand propping up my chin, wild strands of hair tickling my forehead, I point accusingly at the fish.

Say nothing.

Sigh.

It’s shite.

It’s so shite because she should’ve been making an effort down in the city, repairing, redistributing housing. She should be down there, bossing me around. And I should be down there, letting her because she has good ideas.

“Oh,” someone says from behind me.

It’s Aang. Behind him, Sokka and Katara. All three of them have panda eyes.

I make a vaguely inviting gesture.

They come closer, all uncertain.

“Hey Kaito,” Aang says. “How’re you holding up?”

I grunt at him, not caring that it should be me asking him that. Forlornly, I glance at the last of my sake.

He wants to meditate.

Let the Avatar do his communication. Fuck the spirits.

I get up.

“You don’t have to leave,” Aang says, sounding young and uncertain. Somehow hurt.

I want to say something comforting, but all I can think of is “I know. I just… can’t. Just… if you can speak to Yue… ah. Fuck it. That idiot. Suddenly going places I can’t follow.”

“What the hell?” Sokka whispers as he watches me go.

.

I’m with Yugoda, going over the bloodbending in her hut over tea, when Katara, Sokka and Aang enter. Again, they seem surprised to see me.

I’m not a ghost yet.

But maybe the disappearance of my figure after that mild encounter at the spirit oasis gave them the impression that I would not be in attendance for anything anytime soon. Well. I’m her now. Even if I had a day of aggressive venting in the form of using violent efficiency to help clean out the bay of the oil film on the water’s surface and getting the suffocating and dying seal-lions to the healers. Or fishermen.

Yeah. Yeah, I’ve arrived at using life as a distraction.

“Katara,” Yugoda smiles kindly at her, voice warm, “Aang, Sokka. What can I do for you?”

“I… er,” Katara stammers, eyes drifting to me and back to her teacher twice.

I look at Yugoda. “I’ll come back later. Was getting hungry anyway.”

“No,” Katara says then, “This is about you, too. Erm. Actually, this is about the bloodbending you did.”

Ah. I settle back down.

“Well then you had all best sit down,” Yugoda says. “Kaito, be a dear and put on another pot of tea.”

I do as she asks.

The three children look various levels of awkward.

“You’re struggling with the morality of it, aren’t you?” Yugoda asks. “You don’t know how it can be alright what Kaito did to save that man’s life when he didn’t know it would work.”

They nod.

“Well, Kaito,” the old healer turns to me, “Why did you try?”

“I was… in a strange headspace. Yue had just. Well. Yue had just sacrificed herself to become the _moon_ -“ I cut myself off, clear my throat to get rid of the growl seeping into my voice, “And I thought, look, there’s someone who’s going to die if I don’t do anything. I thought that the blood looked as red as the night did, just before she did it. And blood’s close enough to water. So. I tried.”

“And you succeeded,” Yugoda finishes. “Rest assured, young friends, we will not use this knowledge for anything other than healing. And the number of those who will be taught this technique will be very low.”

The silence that greets this is somehow heavy and light at the same time.

“There’s something else,” Sokka says.

I look at him.

He frowns. “Why did you let the Prince and the old man go?”

“Ah,” I say. “We had no means of holding them. They would have escaped and more people might have died. And the General had the opportunity to kill me minutes earlier. Instead, he helped me to the oasis. I sort of owed him.”

“Oh,” Aang says.

Yeah.

War’s shite. Also, I shouldn’t make important decisions like that on my own.

.

[Above, I’m referring to the Song ‘Patience Gets Us Nowhere Fast’ by Capital Cities.]


	4. Sailing to Desperation and Floating to Enlightened Darkness

Book 2 Episodes 1, 2

The following weeks are spent at sea. Sailing around the Earthkingdom half-islands to the south, with waterbenders, takes only two weeks, even with Appa’s additional weight. Aang himself is also a veritable breath of fresh wind for when a lull sets in.

There is something to be said for being back on open waters. In the past years, I’ve only rarely gone on expeditions this far out to check on the Fire Nation’s advance, admittedly usually after I did something that had a lot of people vaguely cross with me. Or I had enough of palace guard duty. Sometimes both. Now, with everything that’s happened, the ocean plays a healing factor for me, and I imagine many others, if their faces are any indication. We’ve lost much.

Too much.

It’s easy to push it down and aside. How do you even _deal_ with-

Pakku is teaching both Aang and Katara, Sokka is practising some moves with the warriors on board. It’s good. It gives everyone time to just enjoy life.

It also gives Team Avatar a chance to witness Pakku’s and my training duels. Both of us show off a bit with that audience. Naturally, when Pakku begins to send large waves at me in short intervals, I go beneath the disturbances and disrupt his footing. Forced to join me beneath the surface, our training evolves into a large scale underwater torrent. Which is fun, but not much of a show unless you can sense what’s going on. And that is a talent very, very few benders have.

We migrate back to the surface and make it a battle of sneak-attacks. Pakku nearly guts me with a subtly bended slash of his finger. I almost take his arm off with a hard yank from a tendril of water I bended behind his back.

It gets a little less dignified after that.

When we’ve both worn ourselves out, we slink back on board. Katara, Aang and Sokka look about to lose their eyes from the sheer astonishment on their faces.

“I didn’t know you could _do_ half those things!” Katara tells Pakku, who pulls his hair into a leather band. “And that stuff underwater, I-“

I close Aang’s mouth for him. Sokka looks a little ill. He’s probably realising what kind of monster his sister could become. So Katara can sense the bending of others. That marks her as full of potential.

“Don’t attempt them on your own. Some of that’s quite dangerous, Katara,” Pakku cautions. She glares at me in response. I have no idea why she projects her feelings of inadequacy into anger at me. I wouldn’t be adequate in her circumstances. She’s doing well.

.

It’s an exquisitely humid day when Sokka approaches me as I watch Katara take some more bending lessons very seriously. She’s diligent about her progress, which is admirable, but I feel that by this point, only practise will make her improve the way she desires to.

And experience. Which in certain ways is one and the same problem.

Sokka seems to want to talk about something, but can’t find the right words.

‘What’s on your mind?’ I don’t ask, and he looks caught out even without the question. So it might be a subject he knows is sensitive to both of us. As of now, only one matter comes to mind, and I won’t be the one to move the conversation in that direction.

Sokka sits down beside me and remains silent.

This might be, for now, for the best. I raise a hand to squeeze his shoulder, what for, I don’t know. His back rounds as he puts his face in his hands. Mine moves to the back of his neck, applying gentle pressure to the stiff muscles there.

We both ignore his wet gasps of breath.

My throat is sewn shut. My chest is numb.

There is nothing to say.

_… sorry._

.

I’m on deck, enjoying the breeze and some booze, as well as the half-moon-shine when Aang comes up the hatch. His bald head glistens with sweat and he looks distraught.

“Nightmare?” I ask softly, and his shoulders draw up to his ears.

He turns to look at me lounging against the mast. “Yeah…”

“Want to talk about it?” I pat the ground next to me and he comes to sit, but stays silent. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Yue?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

I don’t know why I’m telling this to him and not Sokka. Maybe because it’s my memory of her and he met her at a time when she was… different. “Alright, so I was ten years old and Pakku had just taught me how to bend water into steam. I was experimenting with colours at the time, and figured green mist had to look fun. I was right. I was also correct in my assumption that flooding a council member’s house with the stuff had to be funny.”

Aang laughs and the tightness around his eyes begins to fade away a little. In turn, around mine, it grows.

“Anyway, I was running from the warriors sent out to catch the culprit when I was almost cornered. They forgot I was a bender though, and left me the canal open as an escape. I took the chance, but a boat was in my path,” Aang’s eyes widen, “Yeah. I landed Yue and her escort in the canal. Because I fished them out, Pakku caught me. She hated me ever since.”

Aang laughs a little. Then, we sit in silence. I look to the horizon for… comfort? One, thin, almost indistinguishable line where the glittering ocean meets the starry sky. This hasn’t changed. There will always be the edge of the world to chase.

“I was in the Avatar state. But I was outside my body watching myself. It was scary, _I_ was scary,” he divulges and hunches his shoulders. Ah. Well, this is the great and terrible burden of the Avatar. He is the most powerful being we know of in this world, and he, as a twelve-year-old boy, is beginning to learn that. He realises that thirty benders could barely accomplish what he would do in the Avatar State. That’s a scary thing. I can only hope that Aang, as he is, will never quite loose that fear. If he did, it would be a terrifying thing indeed.

“Aang… being the Avatar comes with many gifts and many burdens,” I try to say this as best, as gently as I can. We’re all human and he’s a child with too much on his slim shoulders to carry entirely on his own. “But that’s true for any bender. Sure, water can heal, fire can warm, earth can provide shelter and air can allow you to fly. And yet, they’re all incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. Aang, I believe your hands are definitely not the wrong ones.”

He looks at me with wide eyes. “How can you say that? You were there, weren’t you? You saw me!”

I can feel my face harden. “I did. I also killed Admiral Zhao just minutes before.”

He flinches back. Yes, little Avatar, you’re only human, just like me.

“See, Aang, you’re not the scariest one here,” I add softly. Yue seemed to know some of that all along, even as she treated me with less caution and more familiarity. There has always been a grown man inside this body, and it makes for a strange combination of impatience, disregard and autonomy. I have pushing grief and empathy down to an artform.

We sit a while longer in silence then, before he goes back below deck. I spend the rest of the night wondering if it hadn’t been better to take Zhao prisoner. But I was in no condition to do so and Iroh would’ve had to help his fellow Fire Nation soldier out. Maybe. I can’t be sure.

Iroh’s priority is, and will always be Zuko. So, had he figured it would be better to keep Zhao alive and with them, I’d have undoubtedly died or been taken prisoner myself.

(That doesn’t make the killing alright, though.)

I bare my teeth in silent laughter.

What a mess.

.

I sleep through the morning and wake to Pakku’s face far too close for comfort. Urgh. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

I nod and follow him to where everyone’s assembled to bid Team Avatar farewell. They line up in front of Pakku like ducklings.

“Katara,” Pakku says, and pulls out a vial that I remember her using to heal Aang after Azula got him with lightning, “I want you to have this. This amulet contains water from the Spirit Oasis. The water has unique properties, don’t lose it.”

She hugs him, I note with alarm, and thanks him. Even more alarming, he lets her. But I wonder if she will later think to ask what those unique properties are. I don’t know, so I certainly will.

“Aang, these scrolls will help you master waterbending,” he hands over a box, “But remember, they are no substitute for a real Master.”

Funny things happen. Instead of looking at Katara, like I expected, he glances at me. To which I tilt my head. What…?

As the next in line, Sokka steps up eagerly.

“Sokka,” Pakku pats his shoulder, “Take care, son.”

Sokka’s face is hilarious. I snicker and step up. I pull Hahn’s dagger from my satchel. It’s been a heavy weight there, all this time. “This belonged to Hahn. Yue gave it to him when she accepted his betrothal necklace. It would’ve been returned to her upon the termination of the engagement and given to the next suitor she accepted. You’ll have better use for it than me, I imagine.”

Sokka’s eyes grow suspiciously misty. Oh crap. I pat his shoulder, like Pakku did and give him a wink. He straightens up and stows the dagger away. “Thanks,” he mumbles and climbs onto the flying bison suspiciously quickly.

“Fly straight to the Earth Kingdom based east of here. General Fong will provide you with an escort to Omashu. There you’ll be safe to begin your earthbending training with King Bumi,” Pakku instructs.

“Appa, yip yip!”

“Say hi to Gran-Gran for me!” Katara shouts. And soon they’re only a dot on the horizon.

I sigh. I figure most things will turn out alright for them. Aang will figure out how to be himself while also being the Avatar.

Pakku steps to the railing next to me. “I expected you to go with them.”

Ah, so that was what the waterbending master comment was about. “Nah. Too much excitement for me.”

He snorts. “Now that’s not true, Kaito. I remember the days where you would delight in causing mayhem across the entire city.”

I pass a hand through my hair, “You know that’s long past.”

“Is it? You would do well with them, I think. With someone to take care of.”

I’m surprised he’d say that. I don’t behave like much of a caretaker.

“I heard you with Aang last night,” he says in lieu of waiting for my answer. That sly old man.

I turn my head to look at him. “Then you know why it wouldn’t be good for me to join them. Katara would feel threatened in her position as the waterbender in the group. Sokka might tolerate me so far, but I’m a living reminder of Yue. Aang, well, he doesn’t need someone who won’t flat out refuse to kill someone if the situation demands it.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asks and looks up at the sky. Something in is tone makes me follow his line of sight.

Apparently, I’m more popular than I thought.

The flying bison does one of those groaning grunt-like noises and then Aang jumps off and onto the deck. “Kaito,” he says, big eyes round, “We can’t leave without you. You’re one of us, no matter what Katara says.”

Er… “Well, I’ll just throw all my plans out of the window on the fly then, shall I?”

Aang, bless his heart, does not seem to understand sarcasm when it hits him in the face. So what he does, is whoop and yank me into the air by my collar. I just about catch my satchel with a sleeping bag tied to it that Pakku throws me. Once I’ve been deposited in the saddle, Aang takes the reins again.

Katara looks at me like she swallowed something unpleasant, Sokka just shrugs and offers to tie my pack to the saddle. “Thanks, Sokka.”

He shrugs and we lounge back into the soft fur of Appa, the flying bison.

“Sooo…” Aang says over his shoulder after a while of more or less comfortable silence.

“Let’s get along?” I suggest, a laugh in my voice.

“Yes!” Sokka points at me, “It’ll be great! We’ll get to see earthbenders in action! And maybe some of their strategies against the Fire Nation…”

He trails off, looking naïve, concentrated and hopeful all at once. It seems he’s understood the price that war against the Fire Nation raises. The cost of living freely.

“They don’t seem to be effective for more than slowing the Fire Nation down, though,” I comment, watching the clouds pass us by. I lift a hand and try to get a feel for them. They’re not too different from steam, or mist, but keeping them from turning into properly condensed water particles is a bit of a challenge. “The war’s been going on for a hundred years now. There have been no successful counterattacks so far, nothing that actually regained territory from the Fire Nation. But yes, we’ll learn something from meeting this General Fong.”

“If you don’t think the Earthkingdom’s strategies have been effective, why come with us?” Katara’s tone is that of barely hidden petulance. I’m not entirely sure where this intense dislike stems from, but I suspect it has something to do with Pakku.

“Katara,” Sokka says, reproachful, “Remember how he actually helped us a lot? And how just half an hour ago, we decided to bring him with us, if he wanted to come?”

She jerks her head away, arms already crossed, intent on ignoring us.

Ah, puberty.

“I’m here,” I drawl slowly, “Because I have nothing better to do, and I do enjoy your company for the most part.”

Sokka seems pleased by the admission, Katara’s face scrunches up even more and I can feel Aang’s smile grow without seeing it. Urgh.

“But the General seems like a person to meet,” I add, to get away from the topic. “I read some of his and Pakku’s correspondence. He seems very determined to help Aang.”

“Why’s that sound like a bad thing when you say it?” Sokka asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Because no matter whose side he’s on, when someone can get their hands on someone as young and powerful as Aang, their motives are to be scrutinised very, very closely,” I can feel the frown draw my brows together, “Besides, he thinks there’s a bunch of children on their way to his base to learn… the art of war.”

A glance to Appa’s head shows that Aang’s shoulders have drawn up in discomfort. Sokka seems drained of some of his hope. Ah. I suppose I have that effect on people when I open my mouth with serious intent.

“Are you always this suspicious?” Sokka seems more resigned to it than curious.

I cast him a sardonic smile. “Suspicion is always warranted when it comes to the intentions people have towards princesses and avatars.”

“But who would ever have wanted to harm Yue? Or Aang?”

“You can never be sure, Sokka. People lie, cheat and steal their way to scraps of power for reasons that you or I could never understand because we’re not them. I will never understand Fire Lord Sozin’s decision to start a war with the rest of the world and murder… well, I suppose I can now understand what it means to kill.”

There is silence after that, and I concentrate on the clouds once more.

“I… I guess it can be justified. Sometimes, you have to do what you did to defend your home,” Sokka offers.

“Did you have to kill someone before?” I ask, half-thinking I shouldn’t.

He hugs his knees to his chest. “No. But I was ready to. For a long time, after dad left the tribe with the other warriors to fight the Fire Nation, I was the only one who knew how to fight.”

Katara snorts.

“It’s true! You only just learned to keep the water under control when we found Aang.”

“Hrmpf.”

“Were there no other adults around?” I can’t help but ask.

Sokka shakes his head. “A few women and gran-gran, but no one actually knew how to fight any better than me.”

“That had to be hard,” Aang offers.

I nod. Sokka shrugs and Katara refuses to acknowledge any of us.

“What happens to them all while you’re gone?” I can’t help but ask. He face twists guiltily. “Well, it’ll be better when Pakku arrives.”

He nods.

“Hey, Sokka,” I say after a few minutes of silence, “Explain to me how your boomerang works. You said you made it yourself.”

And he does.

.

The trip isn’t long and soon, we land in the Earthkingdom base.

Our welcome is… enthusiastically delivered. “Welcome! Avatar Aang! I am General Fong,” he and his delegation of uniformed earthbenders follow suit. “And welcome to all of you great heroes! Appa! Momo! Great Sokka! The mighty Katara. And…” he looks at me quizzically while the others preen.

I decide to have a little fun and give the mockery of a bow with a flourish, “Kaito.”

“And the heroic Kaito!” he picks up seamlessly.

Katara snorts, “How would he know that?”

I give her a wink, “My dashingly charming appearance is all he needs.”

Sokka snorts into his hand and Aang considers me seriously. “Actually, I think you come off as a bit less dashing or charming and more… roguish.”

Where did the Avatar pick up a cheap romance novel? Katara and Sokka laugh heartily at my expense and I waggle my eyebrows at Aang just in time for the fireworks to set off. It would’ve been more impressive at night, with the new moon we have. Nonetheless, I nod when Sokka comments, “Not bad.”

We’re led inside a large audience room to sit and are brought some tea while General Fong moves to take his place behind his desk.

“Avatar Aang, we were all amazed at the stories of how you single-handedly wiped out an entire Fire Navy fleet at the North Pole,” he opens, stroking his beard repeatedly with one hand, “I can’t imagine what it feels like to wield such devastating power. It’s an awesome responsibility.”

Ah, now I’m glad I had that talk with Aang. I vaguely remember someone forcing Aang into something or other. In any case, it’s the friendly ones I’m looking out for from now on. As well as everyone else.

“I try not to think about it too much,” Aang replies. True, but that’s what he gets nightmares for, eh? How about some talking about it to get rid of them? Or something. Aren’t there such things as drawing-therapy? An idea for another time.

“Avatar. You’re ready to face the Firelord now,” he declares with a kind face.

“What?! No, I’m not!”

“Aang still needs to master all four elements,” Katara says reasonably. It’s a step up from how she talked to Pakku, definitely.

“Why? With the kind of power he possesses, power enough to destroy hundreds of battleships in a matter of minutes! He could defeat the Firelord now!” Fong’s stood up during his little outburst.

“But, Sir, the thing is, Aang can only do those things in the Avatar state,” Sokka divulges.

“And you might want to take note of the fact that, while the Avatar possesses the power to do what you insinuate, he did not, in fact, destroy that fleet. He instead saved the lives of hundreds of warriors and benders who’d been powerless against the assault of the Fire Nation moments before,” I drawl this with uncharacteristic longevity.

“But he could! He could and with him as the ultimate weapon we can cut a swath right to the heart of the Fire Nation!”

“The ultimate weapon, huh?” I repeat quietly and Katara’s temper makes itself known again.

“Aang isn’t a weapon!”

General Fong seems to decide that he needs another angle to persuade Aang, “May I show you something? That’s the infirmary. And those soldiers are the lucky ones. They came back. Every day the Fire Nation takes lives. People are dying Aang! You could end it, now! Think about it.”

I click my tongue. Everyone turns to look at me leaning against one of the pillars near the window. “Let me ask you something, General. Historically, aren’t all the plans that hinged on one focal point failures? Once that point is removed, the entire plan folds in on itself. What you suggest puts the Avatar at extreme risk, more so than he is now. And, should he be incapacitated, _no one_ returns.”

“That’s right! And Aang is more likely to be incapacitated if he hasn’t mastered all four elements! That puts everyone at even more of a risk!” Sokka catches on fast. Good. Katara’s bound to be with us, if only because she doesn’t believe in Fong’s persuasions.

Only, what he’s said isn’t untrue. But instead of pushing Aang into something he’s clearly not ready for, neither capability-wise, nor emotionally, he should devise better methods of protecting his soldiers, be more cunning. While the Avatar can bring balance to the world, if there’s no one left to live in it, there is hardly any point.

General Fong is mad, tireless and a bit of a tyrant. That much is clear. What will become dangerous is the lengths he’s willing to go to.

That, and he underestimates us. Aang has been warned, Katara and Sokka are ready, Appa knows not to trust the stable hands blindly, and Momo… Well, that one’s a master of making one underestimate him. He’s clever, and quick, and when I bribe him with a few special fruits that he likes, he manages to steal one of the maps and another scroll: an earthbending scroll.

Although it offers little in the way of training an Avatar whose first element is air, I’m sure it will come in handy. Be it only to bribe someone with, or to barter for something equally valuable. Bending forms are very rare, after all, and divulge secrets that some schools have long forgotten.

It would have to be either a family above suspicion within Fire Nation territory, or in the free parts of the kingdom. We’ll see, but I suspect that if it is sold, it will end up in the hands of the wealthy who manage to profit despite or perhaps because of the war. What I know of the Earthkingdom’s economy is sparse, but it isn’t a far leap to assume that taxes are high, soldiers undisciplined, and guidelines that people call laws are stricter. It’s no wonder that General Fong is this desperate. He knows more than I can assume, but Aang is in no state to invade the Fire Nation. Yet. With the right allies, perhaps soon enough.

Soon enough to survive the Comet.

I’d hate to take on the Firelord during those hours. Perhaps we have to work at the firebenders to get them to stop their insane, destruction-happy kin. But it isn’t a likely venue, when I could definitely make some sort of impact elsewhere. Besides, I doubt any change would take, if it didn’t come from the inside, from someone well-known and -liked…

Someone famous…

Perhaps there is a way to put General Iroh back into power, but that’s a long way off. It might be simpler to plant the idea of a functional democracy. But those are hard to establish, and harder to keep from becoming corrupt or slaves to the corporate money holders. Already the wealthy have Ba Sing Se in a chokehold, with only the Dai Li to balance out power.

A balance the latter – and the former, I imagine – would gladly upset, if it meant more advantages for them.

Until I know more, there can be no changes. I don’t know how the Fire Nation people think, what it is they care about most. If a shift in power to the benefit of the people occurred in the Northern Watertribe, the council would clamber to retain their power, leading to the benefit of only their own families.

So there would have to be measures in place to ensure that won’t be a possibility.

As it happens, I believe Arnook to be the best man for the job, although I have no idea who would be his best replacement. I’d keep it being a non-bending family. Benders are already far too influential compared to the non-bending population. But those aren’t immediate concerns of mine. Not until after everything is over. That is, the situation with the Firelord and my spiritual problem.

.

We are brought to our sleeping quarters after a tense dinner that I entirely ignore in favour of some booze. Spirits know, I’ll need it. Katara is so preoccupied that she forgets to shoot me dirty looks as we sit across from each other.

Aang looks dejected and I know he’s the type to want to do something to change that. Only, so far he’s been given the options of ‘do nothing until we get to Omashu’, or ‘do everything to achieve the Avatar State’. Seems I need to open his eyes to another option.

We are shown to our sleeping quarters and while the other three choose beds, I close the door and lean against it.

“You know, Aang, it’s already been a hundred years of fighting. In the grand scheme, a few more months aren’t going to matter,” I begin and he looks like he wants to interject something, “No, no, let me finish. You heard our reasoning, but think about what it took the last few times to get you into that state and if you want to relive that every time you need to achieve it.”

“That’s right, Aang! Remember when we were at the Air Temple and you found Monk Giatsu’s skeleton? It must’ve been so horrible and traumatic for you. I saw you get so upset that you weren’t even you anymore. I’m not saying that the Avatar State doesn’t have incredible and helpful power. But you have to understand that for the people who love you, watching you be in so much rage and pain that you lose yourself like that is really scary,” Katara says, voice growing softer and softer towards the end of her speech.

I didn’t expect that. Neither did Sokka, by the looks of it. And Aang, who was so full of fight after my cold reasoning deflates like a hot air balloon.

I sigh, “Aang. Ultimately, it’s your decision. But pushing yourself into something that you’re not ready for is not going to help anyone. Maybe, with the Northern Watertribe now firmly against the Fire Nation, there are other ways of achieving what General Fong wants at the end of the day.”

Sokka, once again, is my helpful ally, “Remember how I told you about my dad? Well, he’s fighting the Fire Nation right now. I’m sure, if we can manage to unite all our forces and work together, the Avatar State won’t be crucial, but a welcome addition.”

Aang nods, still dejected.

I push off of the door and gather the things I need for a bath. There is a note in my pack. Looks like Pakku’s handwriting. “How long can you hold that state anyway? How exhausting is it? How often can you use it in a row? For General Fong’s plan to work, you would need to be able to hold it for at least an hour, maybe twice a week. More often, if the ‘cut a swath’ plan is meant to be successfully implemented. I don’t really want to see what that would do to you.”

And then, I’m back out the door, on my way to the bath.

The note reads _Kaito, I expect you have much to tell the Avatar and his friends which is why I do not. They need an ally such as yourself with slightly more experience in the way of people’s struggles for power. Never let fear of the unknown cloud your judgement. Take care of them. Pay attention to their needs. You were my best student. Your friend, Pakku._

That old idiot. Still not capable of showing his feelings in person unless drunk and prodded. Not, like I’m any better. So he thinks I should let them know about the comet soon, then. The question is how soon is too soon? They’re all recovering. Is it better to tell them now? To hint? To allow them some time to be children? Fong’s not too keen on it.

I set about washing myself as I think. Being clean again, after a week on that ship is wonderful. The water’s hot and relaxing.

I hear the sound of wet feet slapping on tiles.

“You’re a good strategist, you know?” Sokka says and I shrug without opening my eyes.

The sound of a washcloth being doused in water reaches my ears. Oh, right. Not a bender. I slip one eye open. “Want some help?”

“What?”

“I’m a waterbender.”

“Oh. Right. Sure, I guess?”

So with some smooth gestures of my hands, I gather the soap with a tendril and work it over Sokka’s back.

“Thanks.”

I slip my eyes closed. I think I’m going to lose my good constitution if I’ll continue to spend my days motionless on a flying bison. I wonder if I can practise bending the clouds. That could be fun. I should try it out when we next fly. Still not enough exercise though.

“Ow!”

“What is it?” I ask without opening my eyes. I might see more than I want to.

“Nothing, just shaving.”

I open my eyes. There’s a bleeding cut from his jaw to chin. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how?”

His eyes shift to the ground. That’s a no, then. What, did Katara heal every cut of his whenever he tried? I run a hand over my cheek. Yeah, it’s about time. Ah, puberty. The struggles of growing a full beard.

“Alright then,” I get out of the water and wind a towel around my waist.

“Wuh?” he’s dabbing the cut with a towel.

I bend some hot bathwater to heal his cheek and clean away the blood. Then, making an icy mirror, I show him how to shave on my own face. Then I hand him my icy blade, sharpen the edge in case it’s melted a little and get back in the bath.

When he’s finally done, he gets in the pool opposite me and grumbles a “Thanks.”

I wave him off without opening my eyes. So many good deeds today. Is this what Pakku meant? Someone to take care of?

Soon enough, Aang joins us. Sokka washes his back. They’re unusually quiet.

I use this opportunity to start a waterfight without bending.

Sokka’s pretty good at grappling well enough to dunk someone rather well. But I do have some experience over him. There’s no wins anyway. Aang laughs.

We all do, actually. Something lightens the pressure around my ribcage.

.

The next morning, I wake up with my hands and feet earthbended to the wall in front of the stairs to the audience hall we were first led to. I can’t even twitch a finger. These guys clearly know what they’re doing.

Their only mistake is that I’ve still got my face and something everyone has free. Spit. I remember that one episode with Bumi clearly, and so, when I set about learning under Pakku, I learned to bend with the most miniscule of motions, and because of pride, only with my face.

I take stock of the situation. To my right, there are Katara and Sokka in similar situations to myself. Only, they’re still passed out. Aang though, is high on energy and escaping the attacks of around fifteen earthbenders, Fong and multiple guards.

“You can’t escape forever!” Fong’s got a point. Best get to it, then.

“You can’t fight forever!” Aang’s also got a point. I’m still escaping my restraints, though.

I gather most of the spit in my mouth and send a tendril towards my left hand. Slowly, with as much concentration as I can muster, I use a click of my teeth to slash my left hand free. The problem with bending with so little water and only my face is the pressure I need to be able to build up to slice through the stone. I need three tries before I get free. Ah, nicked my index.

Sparing a moment to reassure myself that no one noticed, I wriggle my fingers and free my feet, then my other hand. Both Katara and Sokka are still out cold.

Fong is just about to smash Aang to pieces with one of the round earth wheels. Fuck-

Using his distraction, I launch myself at him, smash him to the ground, bend his own spit out of his mouth into an icy spike to hover at his neck, my right hand curled into his hair. All activities halt. “Now, that’s no way to be treating guests, is it?”

No one answers. Aang is panting hard, hands on his knees and shooting me an immensely grateful look.

“Now, I strongly suggest someone release our friends, fetch our packs, get Appa and Momo and throw a map to Omashu and some provisions in there.”

The benders hasten to do what I demanded and Aang manages to get Katara and Sokka into the saddle. Then, with a vindictive satisfaction, I smash Fong’s face into the ground. There is a crunch as his nose breaks.

Once I’m in the saddle, too, Aang takes off.

At least I got a bath out of it.

What I did only worked because they don’t want us dead and our continued presence wasn’t worth losing a commander for. My threat… I would’ve followed through. You don’t make threats you can’t follow through on. Would’ve gotten me an earful and maybe a separation from Team Avatar, though.

We cross one river and follow the next to the mountain that separates us from Omashu. We decide to take a couple day’s rest here. Aang needs some time to sort himself out and so do Katara and Sokka who are still out of it. Aang and I deposit them in the shade of a tree with a few strong-smelling plants nearby to startle them out of it.

“Kaito,” Aang says, his face a mixture of curiosity and dejectedness, “How did you manage to get free? I saw how they cuffed your hands and feet.”

I give him a grin, “That’s an easy one. I can bend with my face.”

His eyes grow into gigantic proportions. “What?”

“Oh yeah,” I say, jerk my chin and direct a tendril of water from the river to wrap around Aang’s ankles and yank him into the air.

“Whoa! That’s awesome! Teach me!”

Eh, sure. Not like we’ve got much else to do while the other two sleep. Other than… making Aang realise that the only sensible thing to do is to master all four elements before the Comet arrives.

So I teach him to face bend.

“Aang, this is about fine control. You know how it goes with air, yeah? Try to find that wispy feeling or whatever you want to call it. Try bending air with your face. Then move on to water.”

And he does, he tries and I make dinner, chuckling at the faces he makes.

“Hey, I get it now!”

And he does. A bit. Droplets.

Maybe I should’ve showed him how to draw moisture from the air first?

Well. This way he’ll be able to do it anyway.

“Aang,” I say.

He stops, sensing that the topic is a heavy one. He comes to sit by me.

“You realise that what Fong wants, this insane plan he proposed… it’s not just because he’s losing ground faster than ever before. There is something you need to know. And we should also tell Katara and Sokka, but I want you to come to terms with it first. Because this will determine your outlook on life, on your… world-imposed mission as the Avatar.”

“…Okay. Tell me, Kaito.”

“It’s. Easiest to explain by mentioning what happened to… to the air nomads. I’m sorry to bring this up, Aang.”

He shakes his head sadly. I am about to continue when he stands. He’s going to leave? Well. Okay then, better find another way to explain-

He sits down directly next to me, pressing his shoulder to my arm and that’s basically a request for a hug, from him, so. So I put an arm around him. I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Go on,” he says, after some time.

“The reason the Fire Nation could do what they did to your people was what’s today called Sozin’s comet. It grants firebenders great power while it is close. And it passes by our world every hundred years,” I pause, unsure if he’s making the connection. “Aang… it will return in about ten months.”

“Oh,” he says, and pushes his face to hide in my tunic.

_…sorry._

.

In the end, Aang returns to face bending and can get a drop of water to fall on my head, but not much more.

Then, his stomach growls and we see what the earthbenders packed for us. There are some fruit and bread. To my delight, there’s some booze and to Aang’s some vegetables, but no meat. Well, Aang doesn’t eat any anyway, if I recall correctly. With combined efforts, we manage a decent soup.

That is what Sokka finally wakes up to, his nose leading the way.

“Hey! Where are we?” he shouts as soon as his eyes open.

“General Fong tried to trigger my Avatar State by drugging and earthbending you to a wall!” Aang reiterates, “Did you know that Kaito can bend with his face? How cool is that?”

And, apparently, that’s all the information Sokka needs to prioritise food.

Katara wakes to the sound of their voices, demands to know the same thing Sokka did, in more detail and then eyes me throughout the entire meal. She probably wants to get me to offer teaching her to bend with her face, too. Well, no one said I can’t be petty. She’s going to have to ask.

I lay back for a nap in Appa’s fur and sleep the afternoon away. These kids have never even heard of the concept of taking a watch, so I’m taking all the night shifts.

To keep myself from becoming too much of a vegetable, I go through some forms my father taught me before he died, then I practise my bending with a miniscule amount of water. I got lucky today, but if the earth bindings had been any thicker, I wouldn’t have been able to free myself with just that.

There are enough rocks to practise with, thankfully.

Once I’ve deemed it enough, I find a tree to lean against, not close enough to the fire to blind my eyes to the dark forest.

My thoughts drift back to what I thought about Aang only having two paths pointed out to him. Now, of course, it’s back to only the one, but there must be another.

I vaguely remember there being a quote from some pope about injustice becoming justice and therefore resistance becoming duty. The way the Firelord is portrayed in the series indicates that he’s actually a tyrant the likes of which this World can’t remember having seen before Sozin. He propagates the strength of the Fire Nation and furthers their patriotism blatantly. But there must be some who recognise it for what it is.

Even though this has been going on there for over a hundred years, there must be those who question. Now, if they’re smart enough to see through the propaganda and not get caught, how do I find them? They’ll either be organised like the White Lotus is, or they will be all over the place and nowhere to be found. The problem with that, aside from the obvious, is that any whispers of anything approaching treason will be met with arrest or a flame to the face.

From what I know, the Fire Nation has forgotten the original way of bending and they channel emotions like anger and hate into their bending. Of course, that requires them to hate something, and so, they are taught to hate all who are not Fire Nation.

Infiltration with features like mine is nigh to impossible. My skin might not be as dark as Katara’s or Sokka’s, but the difference would be noticeable amongst all the pasty whites of the Fire Nation nobles. And it’s the nobles I’d need to have access to, as well as the general populace. Then, there’s the blue eyes that no one there has. Sunglasses, maybe, but I haven’t seen any yet. I could pretend to be blind, but that’s entirely unhelpful.

But I should learn to sense water surrounding me when I can’t see well anyway.

Besides, at some point there are going to be wanted posters of us and try as I might, I can’t hide my nose. It’s the long and slim kind with the typical watertribe crook, so nothing special, but it’s so long that it’s not forgettable. Makes my face all planes and angles. So, I’m recognisable instead of the average I’d want to be.

Before I worry about that, though, how would I find out about whether there are pockets of sceptics in the Fire Nation or not?

“Hey,” Sokka’s whisper from his bedroll interrupts my thoughts.

“Hey.”

“D’you wanna spar?” he asks, getting up and tiptoeing towards me with exaggerated movements. It makes me smile.

“A spar? I could make us some swords, I suppose.”

And so we spar. I’d say that if I hadn’t been training with Hahn for so long, Sokka would definitely be better with a sword than me. As it is, I just about beat him. It’s good that he’s such a fast learner.

.

By the time the sun rises, Sokka is out like a light, exhaustion finally setting in.

I get an apple for breakfast and watch as the others slowly wake up.

Aang and Katara decide to do some waterbending practise.

Soon, Sokka floats about in his underwear. I decide that Sokka’s got the right idea and join him. Aang seems normal, after our talk yesterday. Maybe I should’ve led with Sokka and Katara? Just Sokka? Just Katara? I have no idea. They’ll have to know soon, too. Maybe I can talk to Aang again and then we tell them together? Or something?

At some point midday Sokka and I get into a contest of who can balance their knife better on their fingertips without having to get up off the leaf.

Katara and Aang practise their octopus bending, which is all nice and good, the flirting’s funny to watch, too. “You make a fine octopus, Aang.”

She does help him out of it, though, so the Avatar doesn’t die.

“What am I doing wrong, though?” he asks after he’s caught his breath.

She shakes her head, “It was probably that while you were yanking on my ankle, you also pulled the rest of the water around you towards you.”

Nope, not it, but neither of them know that you can manipulate another’s forms so long as you’re connected to the source either. I never said I was mature. I’ll let them in on it later.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

Then, music. I completely forgot about those guys. Man, they’ve got to have some of the good stuff, if I remember correctly. Maybe they’ll be charitable. I haven’t smoked since I was reborn.

“Don’t fall in love with a traveling girl, she’ll leave you broke and broken hearted,” the one with the sweeping hair sings and Sokka splashes into the water behind me with a squawk. That one wasn’t me. Katara, maybe.

“Hey-hey! River people!” he greets and I raise a hand to wave at him. The Chinese-looking man waves back.

“We’re not river people,” Katara says.

“You’re not? Well then what kind of people are ya?”

“Just… people,” Aang says. I get off of my leaf.

“Aren’t we all, brother? Woo!”

Sokka walks over, “Who’re you?”

“I’m Chong and this is my wife Lily. We’re nomads, happy to go wherever the wind takes us.”

With that sentence he’s got Aang hook, line and sinker. “That’s great! I’m a nomad.”

“Hey, me too,” Chong replies.

“I know. You just said that,” Avatar Sassy says.

“Oh,” Chong shrugs, “Nice underwear.”

Sokka goes to hide. Yeah, I’m thinking they’ve got the good stuff. Nice. Now how to…

One of the girls begins packing a pipe. Nice. Now how to…

“Want some?” she offers. Nice.

“Sure, thanks,” I take a careful drag. No embarrassing coughing, otherwise that’ll be my first and last. Ah, just as horrid as I remember. I take another, then hand the pipe back. “What’s your name?”

“Shuika. Yours?” she inhales and hands the pipe back.

“Kaito.”

And that’s that.

I get blissfully high and let her braid my hair that’s grown to my chin in the last few weeks. Then we slink off to… well, Sokka and Katara probably know, but so long as Aang doesn’t need the sex talk yet, I’m going to keep this PG13.

“Heey, the lovebirds are back,” Chong sings once we return to the others.

Katara immediately shoots me her death glare, but I don’t really mind. We stumbled across some berries earlier and sharing is caring, so we brought them with us.

“Hey, Sokka, you should hear some of these stories. These guys have been everywhere,” Aang says with a flower crown on his head.

Chong replies, **“** Well, not everywhere, little Arrowhead. But where we haven't been we've heard about through stories and songs.”

Sokka is clearly sceptical of this. I hand him some berries. Then I settle into Appa’s fur next to Chong. Sokka stares at me a little, then he gets his thought process back on track. That boy needs to learn to relax. Or remember how to. He did so well earlier.

Before Sokka can say anything more, Avatar Happy tries to get Sokka into the mood, “They said they'll take us to see a giant night crawler.”

“On the way there’s a beautiful waterfall that creates a never-ending rainbow,” the Chinese man adds from where he’s lying on the ground.

Sokka is not swayed. “Look, I hate to be the wet blanket here, but since Katara is busy I guess it's up to me. We need to get to Omashu. No sidetracks, no worms, and definitely no rainbows.”

That’s… man, I’d have liked to see that waterfall. Maybe even surf down. I think even Katara would be up for that. Aang definitely.

Chong imparts his next bit of wisdom, “Whoa... sounds like someone's got a case of ‘destination fever’, heh. You're worried too much about where you're going.”

His wife nods and gestures with Katara’s braid, “You’ve gotta focus less on the ‘where’ and more on the ‘going’.”

Sokka is clearly not into that. “O. Ma. Shu.” The facial acrobatics he can perform are impressive.

“Sokka’s right. We need to find King Bumi so Aang can learn earthbending somewhere safe,” Katara chimes in.

“Well, sounds like you’re headed to Omashu,” Chong deduces. Sokka is so unimpressed he smacks his own forehead. “There’s an old story about a secret pass… right through the mountain.”

“Is this real or a legend?” what is with these two? Always so sceptical.

“Oh, it’s a real legend,” I snort at that. Chong is pretty funny. Then, he begins playing the song about the tunnel and the other nomads save Aang dance to it.

“Thanks, but we’ll just stick with flying. We’ve dealt with the Fire Nation before. We’ll be fine,” Sokka proclaims. I don’t sweat it. I can go along with whatever.

“Yeah. Thanks for the help, but Appa hates going underground and we need to do whatever makes Appa most comfortable,” Aang says.

True to his words, we get into Appa’s saddle and take the areal route. It turns into a bit of a rollercoaster ride with fire elements involved. I decide to try out my skill with cloud-bending. I’m pretty good. Maybe it helps that I’m so… floaty. It’s all quite fun, really.

The others don’t think so, though, and so we return to where we left the nomads.

Not Aang’s dead relatives. The musicians. Yeah. It’s. Maybe not the best idea to get high at the moment with so many concerns floating – clouding? – about in my head. Too late. Must be fate.

And there is the gate.

To the cave. Of love… yeah. Sure.

Fuck love, though.

Fuck life.

Fuck it all.

We’re still doing this.

Sorry, Appa.


	5. Caves Cater to What the Heart Craves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 2 Episodes 2, 3

“Secret lovecave, let’s go,” Sokka says and leads the other two, equally dirty and disenchanted Aang and Katara past the relaxing others. I amble after them, whistling a tune from Monty Python’s Life of Brian that I remember fondly. It’s true in any universe, and still, looking at the bright side is rarely what I do. Today, though, it feels okay.

“Stop that, please,” Sokka tells me. He doesn’t know the song, but we are not on the same wavelength today. Or, no longer. We started out so well, so relaxed, so nice. Why not stay that way? To worry is to hurt twice.

I stop and start humming the Logical Song instead.

“How come you’re not dirty anyway?” Aang asks curiously. He, out of the three of them, is the most cheerful. His disposition is hard to shake, even if he is a child with whims and frustrations, fears and angers.

“I just bended it away.” The accompanying hand gesture ends in a gentle sweep over his arrowed head. He smiles.

“No you did not,” Katara claims, “ _I_ can’t bend it away.”

“Oh, no not like that. I had some clouds and deflected all the dirt coming my way. Like a shield, only liquid and a bit poofy,” I gesture in a circular, fluffy motion with both hands to show them what I mean.

They gape. What, do they think I’m not skilled enough for that? I can bend with my face, after all. This is nothing.

“You’re high as a kite and you can still bend with such precision?” Katara asks, eyes wide.

I shrug. “Sure. Wouldn’t have been a full Master by fifteen if not. I got a traditional celebration feast and everything,” then my tone turns conspiratorial, “We have some interesting seaweeds that can be dried and smoked. So. Not the first time bending under influence, but don’t tell Pakku.”

“Wait, you’re a full Master?” Aang questions, ignoring the last part of what I said. Which is just as well.

“Yeah. Didn’t you know? Why else would I be given command over thirty benders for that wall outside the city?”

“Well you said you were friends with the Chief…” Sokka throws in there. True, but it’s not like Arnook would give command to an incompetent just because he likes him. That would be idiotic.

“ _That_ ’s why Pakku looked at you and not at me on the ship when he said Aang needed a Master!” Katara bursts out, tearing me from my jumbled thoughts. Ah, so she’s hung up on that. She might have to work on her self-esteem as a person instead of being special because she’s the bender in the family.

Careful, self. No judging the teenage girl, please. We all grow, and you still have your own to do.

So I say: “Oh, yeah, surprised me, too. I’d originally figured I’d get in touch with your dad and help out a bit, but this is fun, too.”

“What?” Sokka asks, “You need to tell us this stuff.”

“I just did.”

“No, earlier!”

“Why though?” I ask this for the sole purpose of being annoying. Also, this is making me feel guilty about only telling Aang about the comet so far. I should tell Katara and Sokka. But. I kind of don’t want to. It’s completely irrational, I know. They will find out, they need to know, it’s just that I am not looking forward to more emotional support-giving. Who else is going to do it, though?

Aang, the sweetheart, steps up to the apparent task of making me feel like I’m part of the group, “Because then we can make decisions together. So, if you want to go help out with the war effort, we can find a way to get you there.”

“Ah, but you’re going to need to be with your earthbending teacher, Aang. And even if I don’t stay with you forever, until you’ve mastered waterbending, it’s probable that you’ll benefit from my presence,” I say reasonably. Good deflection. It’s bound to wind Katara up.

“How?” she grouses, “So far, all you’ve done is sleep and talk about killing!”

“That’s not true,” Aang defends, slightly cross, even though she has a point, “He defeated General Fong and freed us! And he taught me how to bend with my face! And he stays awake at night to watch out for us.”

Oh, he noticed that? Right, his nightmares are bound to wake him up. I don’t give in to the urge to sigh. So much to do and there’s no responsible adult in sight. There also wouldn’t be if we had a mirror.

“Now, now. Let’s all get along. We need to watch out for the curse,” Lily tries to placate.

“Curse?” Sokka’s jaw unhinges.

“Oh yeah,” Chong says, “All you need to do is trust in love… Or you get lost in the labyrinth forever.”

“And die,” Lily adds.

“Right,” Chong says and wriggles his fingers, “Hey, I just remembered the rest of that song!” he ventures into the cave, plucks an accord and sings: “And dieeeee.”

It echoes ominously. Heh, this guy has the best lines. Sokka has the best faces.

There should be a third trait everyone has, but someone’s best at. Katara, probably. At being prissy.

Ouch, that’s downright pathetic. Take out your underlying issues on a sixteen-year-old girl, why don’t you?

“That’s it! There’s no way we’re going through some cursed hole!” Sokka saves me from that train of thought. Let’s hope it hasn’t lost a caboose somewhere in the dregs of my mind.

The Chinese man points out a bonfire in the distance that looks suspiciously like the Fire Nation conveniently announcing their intentions to kill us. Katara and Sokka it seems, have the same thoughts as me.

“So all you need is to trust in love to get through the caves?” he glances surreptitiously at Katara who is frowning at the rising smoke like sheer willpower can stop the Fire Nation from advancing. Who knows, maybe she’s onto something? She _is_ pretty headstrong. There, I did not call her stubborn, just wilful.

“That is correct, Mr Arrowhead,” Chong answers, no doubt catching the adoration on the Avatar’s face when he looks at her.

“Then we’ll be fine.”

That’s almost too sweet. No, definitely. I keep the bile in my stomach.

“Everyone, into the hole!” Sokka orders and we follow him inside. The air is surprisingly warm in these tunnels. I wonder why. Are these still active volcanic mountains? Does that sort of environment make firebenders stronger, like being surrounded by water at the North Pole gave me more of a sense of stability and belonging? I can bend just as well away from the ocean and all the ice, but I knew exactly what the area felt like and if the ice was structurally integral. Would a firebender be able to tell the flow of magma? Or pinpoint heat signatures? Do they train firebenders to do that?

“Hey, Katara,” I say in the spirit of getting along. “If you bend the dirt wet, you can get it off. But, like, you have to be careful. So. Try on a small patch first. It’s very tricky to make the water force the more solid substance off, so it helps to make it wet.”

“Oh, thanks!” Aang saves me from Katara’s murderous-looking face.

What did I do? Did I explain something she already knows? Oh. Have I done a mansplain?

Aang tries to make use of the tip. But he ends up spreading the mud around on his trousers.

“Oh. Maybe I need to practise this more-“

We’re not far in when the entrance collapses.

Appa groans and rushes at the settled rubble, trying to get through with sheer determination. Chong lights a torch. Good man. Katara approaches the flying bison and tries to calm him down.

“We will be fine. All we need is a plan. Chong, how long do those torches last?” Sokka takes charge. Okay. Well, I believe in the power of love, Aang does, Katara does, and the nomads do, so we’ll be fine.

“Eh, about two hours each.”

“And we have five torches, so that’s… ten hours,” Lily lights the other four with a swipe on the ground. Pretty nifty, that. But not really what we need to appreciate right now.

Katara seems to think so, too and begins to bend her water to douse the flames just as Sokka stomps over to smother the torches. I manage to intercept her bending by looping it back into her water skin. No one but her and I notice and once she’s done glaring at me, realisation crosses her features. If the torches are wet, they can’t be lit. I’m not sure how the materials would interact with water, even if we extracted the liquid. She still sends a scowl my way.

I shrug. I’m not sorry. I’m very rarely sorry.

“It doesn’t work like that if they’re all lit at the same time!” Sokka shouts once he’s stomped out the fire.

“Oh… right.”

“I’m gonna make a map of exactly where we’ve been. Then we should be able to solve it like a puzzle and get through.”

Good plan. So, does he go with something like ‘ten paces in this direction’ and ‘a five degree slope upwards’ to measure the distance and how the tunnels wind? Well, it doesn’t really matter. We have the power of Love on our side.

In the spirit of that, I help Aang with the dirt on an unfortunate place on the back of his trousers.

.

“Sokka, this is the tenth dead end you’ve led us to,” Katara complains under the guise of criticism. Not really disguised, though.

“That doesn’t make any sense. We already came through this way,” Sokka considers his parchment. He did indeed make little markers for every ten steps he took, and whether he felt like we were moving up or down.

“We don’t need a map. We just need love,” Chong proclaims and gestures to Aang, “The little guy knows it.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind a map, also,” Avatar Diplomatic demurs.

Sokka walks a few paces, “There’s something strange here.”

He considers the wall, his map and then looks at us to announce, “There is only one explanation. The tunnels are changing.”

Dun-dun-duuuun.

Oh, right. Some kind of huge natural earthbender-mole-creatures that also taught Toph how to bend because she’s also blind live here. That makes sense, about as much as my thumbnail’s worth, but… no. My thumbnail is very useful. So. More like my little finger’s nail’s worth. Now, if only we could ask the moles to see us out safely.

Chong is panicking, Aang valiantly tries to believe in the power of love and Sokka is making a face that I think means he’s figuring out a plan.

“It must be the curse,” Chong intones wandering in a circle, changing directions and holding his cheeks. “I _knew_ we shouldn’a come down here.”

“Right. If only we listened to _you_ ,” Sokka snaps, gesturing with the torch. We’re on the third one already. Well. Whether we can find our way outside or not doesn’t really depend on the torches. If the moles are already changing our tunnels without us noticing, less light, so less stimuli might make us more focused on what we need to hear, rather than seeing.

“Everyone quiet. Listen!” Katara hisses. Ah. It’s like she read my mind.

It sounds vaguely threatening. But right now, everything sounds vaguely threatening to my ears.

The wolfbat that sweeps in looks… not threatening. More like an experiment gone wrong. I’m getting strong Resident Evil shivers. Nonetheless, Sokka seems to think it’s something to be burnt alive and tries to skewer it with the torch.

He hits it. But he also lets it go and it lands on one of Appa’s feet.

There’s no stopping a panicked flying bison.

The ceiling comes down on us. Oh shit.

Then, a strong gust of wind from Aang knocks us all out of the way and he tackles Katara to the ground. Nice save there, Avatar.

Phew.

Sokka immediately begins to dig.

“Yeah, it’s no use. We’re separated,” then Chong says something that once again reminds me how observant this guy is, “At least you have us, heh-he.”

“Nooo!” Sokka wails and is promptly buried beneath a pile of smaller rocks.

I laugh at him and pull him out by his ankles, which he struggles against. He’s quite strong. He looks miserable until he sees my face. “Hey, Kaito. I thought you were with Aang and Katara.”

I shrug. “You need to be more aware of your surroundings, Sokka,” I lecture and stroke my chin. He looks fine. No bleeding and probably not a concussion. Not, that I would have any idea how to diagnose that. So there’s no point in checking him over for injuries. Maybe I should’ve spent more time with Yugoda.

It gets a grin out of him. He draws himself up. It looks endearing so I pat his head and earn a weird look, which he then shakes off. “Alright! The wolfbat! It must’ve come from somewhere! It needs to eat. So how…?”

“We follow the draft,” I say and unscrew my water skin.

“What…?” Sokka questions, then, as I bend some of the water into mist that shimmers in the light of the torch, his eyes light up in understanding. “Oh! Brilliant.”

We have to wait a few moments, but the mist finally drifts towards one of the tunnels. To save water, I bend it back into my water skin. We repeat the process every hundred paces, in case the tunnels have changed again.

At some point, Chong makes the suggestion to amplify our plan with a love song. Sokka’s expression is hilariously sour and pleased at the same time.

“Ah, Sokka, for someone who believes in curses, not to believe in love is kind of…” Moku finally says, once they’ve finished the song. It’s taken him a while to figure that out.

Sokka bristles, but doesn’t answer.

I sling a placating arm across his shoulders. “Oh, Sokka does believe in _lurve_ , doesn’t he?” I wink at him. “After all, his girlfriend’s the moon now.”

“Oh, so romantic,” Lily sighs and Shuika nods. Even though it’s not. It’s really fucking not.

Sokka’s face reddens, even as he frowns at my insensitivity.

Ah, we can’t all be a caring sister, or an empathic Avatar. Besides, Sokka needs to talk about this with someone. The nomads will at least make a song of it.

“Yes, very. You see, she was the princess of the Northern Watertribe and forced into an arranged marriage out of a duty to her people. When the Fire Nation lay siege to the city and their commander managed to kill the Moon Spirit Tui, the princess who was blessed by that same spirit as an infant gave her life to resurrect it. And so, the Avatar was able to save the city and drive out the Fire Nation. Now, whenever the moon shines down on us, it is actually the princess who touches upon our souls.”

“Oh,” Lily breathes, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Moku says, shifting suspiciously to hide his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. The two women take him aside to talk about his feelings.

“Why did you lie?” Sokka hisses in my ear once he’s escaped them.

“Huh?”

“Hahn. She wasn’t forced into the betrothal.”

I pat his back and withdraw my arm, “She might as well have been.”

It’s true. When you’re sixteen you still want to please your parents to an extent. And Yue had always been very sensitive to what was expected of her as a princess. As the future leader. It was what everyone told her to do, from the time she was a little girl. Marry, lead the tribe, do the right thing, give us heirs.

He is silent after that. It’s only after we’ve lit the other torch we have that he speaks again.

“You… you do that deliberately, don’t you?”

“Hm?”

He gestures, “The riling people up. Telling Aang that he’s not as much of a monster as you are. Lording your control of bending over Katara’s head. Telling them about Yue so that I’d have someone to talk about it to. You do it all on purpose.”

“Nah. I just go with what feels right,” I wave him off.

But he’s on a roll. “And that day Yue came chasing after you to warrior training! You led her straight to Hahn!”

“Coincidence, Sokka. I knew Hahn would delay her and so I could get away.”

“Yeah right. Like you couldn’t have outrun her two streets from the palace,” he scoffs.

“Oops?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah, oops. What else have you done that I haven’t noticed?”

“Nothing to do with you, Sokka. Man, you’re pretty smart. The other two never would’ve noticed,” I compliment him.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, “You’re redirecting the conversation. Why?”

Ah, maybe I was too obvious. Should I be giving out more compliments to make throwing him off seem more regular? But I’m really not the type for it. Too much hassle.

I shrug.

“Nothing to do with me, you say? Okay, I’ll believe that. You led Yue to Hahn so she’d tell him how she felt. You reveal your bending abilities so matter-of-factly that Katara thinks you’re making fun of her and she tries harder to catch up. You told Aang… you told Aang that because he’s never killed anyone you’re scarier than he could ever be, Avatar or not,” Sokka’s eyes widen in realisation. Urgh. I did not want a psych-evaluation when I went about making their lives easier. Or harder, in Katara’s case. With her, Sokka is giving me far too much credit. It’s just fun to rile her up.

“You think you’re scarier than the Avatar in the Avatar State,” Sokka whispers.

“Sokka. I beheaded Admiral Zhao with a swipe of my hand. You might want to be very careful what you say next,” I say, smiling. I can see it creeps him out.

But Sokka is not Katara’s brother for nothing. He steps closer instead of turning tail.

“So you don’t care that you’re scary. You like making people uncomfortable. What is it, then? Why mention Zhao specifically?” he searches my face as if it’s going to be written out on my cheek in tiny script, “Hahn,” he finally breathes and I know he catches the flinch of my eyes. “You blame yourself for Hahn’s death.”

What the fuck?

How the fuck did he just deduce that from nothing? Did he search my stuff and find Pakku’s note? Why would he be looking through my pack? Do I want to find out?

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have thought the fight was over with Zhao dead. Hahn paid for that mistake.”

“…that mistake. You think you made more that night. What is it? Who else…? Yue. You think you’re responsible for her, too.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you want, Sokka?”

“It was your first time in a fight-“

“Not true.”

“Fine, then your first time in a fight of that scale with stakes that high and your mission objective was to neutralise Zhao. You couldn’t have known that the Fire Nation soldiers wouldn’t stop with his death. And as for Yue… no one thought he would even have knowledge of the Spirit Oasis, no less _tell someone else about it_. So, I guess what I’m saying is that both aren’t your fault. You’re not responsible,” he pokes a bony finger to my chest.

I grit my teeth. But I am. I was. I should have made sure the Oasis was protected, not just the city at large. I should not have underestimated Zhao, or his soldiers.

“I suppose, then, that we all have burdens to bear that aren’t our own.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka questions.

“Yue. It was her choice. You can’t protect people from themselves, Sokka. We make choices that are our own all the time. And Yue… she knew what she was doing. She knew _what she was doing_ ,” my voice goes kind of high and hoarse at the same time. So that’s all I say. I ignore the worried face Sokka makes.

With that, I move to catch up with the nomads who’ve wandered past us.

Fucking hell. What does _he_ know?

… more than I give him credit for, obviously.

He hastens his steps, but says nothing. Shoulder to shoulder, grieving like emotionally repressed idiots.

“We should find an earthbender when we reach the city to look for Katara and Aang,” I make a peace offering. Voice almost normal.

“Yeah,” he nods, and some tension bleeds from his shoulders. For all that the siblings bicker, Sokka sure does have a need for things to be alright. Understandable, really. Makes confrontations hard, though. Makes living in a war hard. But maybe that’s how we find the need to make things better.

“I’ve never met an earthbender aside from the ones in General Fong’s base,” I comment. “I wonder what it’d be like to spar one.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “You benders and your sparring. The world would be a quieter place if everyone was normal and sensible!”

“Like you?” and the tone is so mocking that he stops to object, while I continue, “I suppose there’d be more theatre. Comedy clubs, that sort of thing.”

“Comedy clubs?” his anger is set aside for curiosity. Sokka, in a nutshell.

“Yeah. You know, for people who earn their livelihood by making others laugh. Like court jesters, only for everyone.”

“You think those things exist?”

“Maybe in Ba Sing Se. Not sure. If not, when all this is over, you could start one,” I say, and can’t resist the temptation to add, “Not sure if anyone would come, though.”

Outraged, he attempts to put me in a headlock. He’s not as tall, and hasn’t had to wrestle with Hahn since his early pubescent days. “I’d come,” I say lowly, when he taps out. “If only to laugh at you.”

.

When we finally find a way out of the caves, Aang and Katara are already there. So that makes the plan to find an earthbender who can help us find them unnecessary.

“Ha! The journey was long and annoying, but now you get to see what it’s really about – the destination,” Sokka marches to the edge of the cliff facing the city of Omashu after hugging the nomads good-bye. I take care to check for my money pouch after Shuika’s clever fingers linger a moment too long.

“I present to you the Earth Kingdom city of O… Oh no.”

Above the front gate of the city hangs a red banner. Thick ropes of smoke rise into the sky. The Fire Nation has already taken the city of Omashu.

Aang is glum. Understandable. There isn’t much we can do for that, though. “ I can't believe it. I know the War has spread far,” he turns toward us sadly, “but Omashu always seemed ... untouchable.”

Which might be true. Until the Fire Nation launched the recent large-scale attack, the North Pole seemed like an easily defendable bastion against the Fire Nation. Only difference was that we had the Avatar and not an insane ruler. And, I suppose, the city would have been melted to the point of no return instead of occupied. The waterbenders would have been… purged, the population closely monitored somewhere as workers with no chance of resistance unless we had all fled in time.

“Up until now, it was. Now Ba Sing Se is the only Earth Kingdom stronghold left,” Sokka agrees. He seems indifferent to what this potentially means for Aang. Bumi is his only friend from before he was encased in ice, except for Appa.

Katara is the same. I suppose that I am the only one who could even remotely emphasise with what Aang feels. If I had only one friend from my old life, one person who knows what it was like, I wouldn’t wake up after some afternoon naps wondering if the thirty years I remember aren’t just fanciful fantasy constructed by a child with overactive imagination. To have someone who understands…

“This is horrible, but we have to move on.”

That’s not going to fly. “No. I’m going to find Bumi.”

“Aang, stop. We don’t even know if Bumi’s still-” Sokka cuts himself off from finishing his sentence.

“In the city. But there is really no reason not to search for a friend like he seems to be one,” I interject before the siblings can alienate the Avatar. Aang shoots me a grateful look. Sokka looks like he wants to both thank me for ending his sentence and throttle me for going along with Aang’s desire. Katara just frowns at me disapprovingly like she always does.

“It’s useful if we know what people live like under Fire Nation regime,” I add, and Sokka will accept it as tactically sound. Katara… “And maybe they could use a little help.”

We make for the city under a widespread coat of mist, so as not to seem inconspicuous in a dense cloud making its way to the under bowels of the city. Aang leads us to a large round pipe with a closed off end that I have my suspicions about.

“A secret passage?” Sokka asks, “Why didn’t we use this last time?”

Aang breaks open the entrance. Urgh. Sewer. “I think I’ll just sit this one out,” I say and take Aang’s place behind Appa’s head.

“Wouldn’t want Appa to get lonely,” Aang agrees.

Katara sneers at me, and follows him while Sokka throws me a look that’s probably supposed to be knowing, but comes off as uncertain. I wave them away.

“Yip yip!” I always wanted to say that. Appa and I make for the canyon that I think is most probable for Aang and the resistance to take cover in. I layer the area with a thick fog and find a nice niche without other inhabitants for Appa to hide in. I give him some feed and settle in to think about what my plans are.

With Fong’s map, I trace out a plausible route to Ba Sing Se. With Omashu a Fire Nation city until the solar eclipse, it is the only city I could find that leads to a spy network among the Fire Nation citizens. Especially with the Dai Li in cahoots with Azula.

When did that happen anyway? Is there a chance to infiltrate? The only person I specifically remember being brainwashed is that guy with the hook-swords and wheat sticking from his mouth. I… might have to provoke people into acting out. And follow them. And be better than the Dai Li at sneaking around.

I get the booze from Appa’s saddle.

So maybe getting the White Lotus involved early might just be the key. I know all the over sixty-year-olds are members. All the white-haired Masters. And Sokka’s sword master.

So, maybe not all of the old men. I’d feel too comfortable around people older than me who don’t treat me like I’m somehow reliable. That was so disconcerting after the siege. Apparently, even in Zuko’s white outfit with the hood on people recognised me. I wasn’t even behaving much like my usual self during the fighting and planning and clean-up.

I think, anonymity will do me some good. It’s neat that even someone who knew Momo’s name didn’t know mine. That does help. A little.

At some point, I get drunk enough to brush Appa’s teeth. Which is oddly satisfying. But also disgusting. I’m still not sure how to feel about it.

When the moon is high up in the sky, I begin to hum a few of my more favourite songs that I can mostly only remember the chorus to. Which makes me sad. Which irritates me. To which I can only laugh at myself. This is like puberty in one night. Only not so bad. But.

Appa has soft fur.

I’m going to miss that. And I only had it for about a week. Well, better to leave before it really hurts. They’re fun, but. I need to be by myself. Or do something that doesn’t require me to be nice, and cooperative all the time.

All this aggression and it has nowhere to go.

.

The resistance and Team Avatar arrive in my canyon close to midday. They find me severely hungover. And wondering why there’s a toddler crawling after them.

It waves at me. I raise a hand and curl and uncurl my fingers from where I’m propped against a rock. It decides to come over. That is in itself strange. Why hasn’t the child been picked up? Who is this? It’s dressed well and well-fed.

I end up entertaining the child with a bit of bending throughout the entire time they set up camp. Katara looks at me funny, Aang gives me a soft smile and Sokka looks like he wants to say something, but refrains because we’re not alone. I even end up finding a niche to change his diaper in and bend him clean. He likes playing with tendrils of water.

But since he is easily distracted, I have time to cure my headache and look at the people setting up camp. They’re ragged. Nobody wears clothing that isn’t ripped or mended somewhere. No one is well-fed. Everyone looks grim, tired and too thin.

Not all of them know how to set up camp. I decide to help out a little with setting up drinking water for everyone. With a bender’s help, in the middle of camp, there is now a trough with fresh water from which everyone can drink. The child falls asleep on my shoulder. It must have been exhausting crawling all the way from the city.

I also ask the bender if he thinks they’ll stay here for longer. He shrugs. “It’s been decided that we can’t live underground any more. But I don’t know if we’re staying. All of us want our homes back. But living under Fire Nation rule is not a home.”

“Then, just in case, let’s set up a well,” I suggest. “I’ll show you where the water flows underground.”

“Thanks.”

He makes quick work of it, but looks exhausted afterwards. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

He follows me to where Aang, Katara, Sokka and a middle-aged man are cooking up a soup above a fire. “So,” I greet, “Does anyone want to tell me why the resistance of Omashu is now outside of it? And, who are this child’s parents?”

“Er… so, we had to be really sneaky inside the city, but we were almost caught!” Aang says, but it’s not in the tone that he should be using. He’s cheerful. I put the child in his arms, since he’s still sleeping and I’m kind of bored with him already.

“Yes. Some of my men found these guys when the Fire Nation patrol were just about to arrest them for suspicious behaviour,” the middle-aged man says. So he’s a leader of some kind. “We followed them out here because… the resistance is running out of resources. They’ve arrested some of our family members and those of the workers who were helping us. They’ve put our children into orphanages to be _re-educated_!”

“I see. So have you formulated some kind of plan?” I ask and there is only silence. “What about our original objective? Finding King Bumi?”

“He let himself be arrested, so that the rest of us would go free,” the man says and his tone is one of frustration.

“Do you think it was the right choice?”

His silence is unhappy. Perhaps not, then. Or perhaps it was at the time and he thinks in the long-term that it wasn’t.

“Do you know where the prisons are?”

Sokka’s head shoots around in my direction. Katara stirs the soup more violently. Aang’s eyes begin to shine with hope. It’s that last bit that makes me want to be very careful about all of this and what is said.

“Yes, but they’re all metal. We can’t free our people and we can’t free our King. The only thing we’ve been able to do is survive and hide. We were making right nuisances of ourselves for the Fire Nation, so I’m not surprised they let that little disease-ploy slip into an exodus of all those wanting out. We couldn’t even get everyone to pack their things really, or we might have been too slow and stopped. And you can’t let all the innocent civilians get arrested. But they can’t live like they have to with the _reparations_ so high. They’re all going to starve to death at this rate. Like we weren’t just defending ourselves. Fire Nation bastards.”

His frustration and anger and helplessness are palpable. It’s contagious. I let that settle in a bit. It’s best if we all understand exactly where we stand.

There is more silence before I speak up again. I draw circles for each sentence into the dirt. “So, what do we want to do? We want to free everyone who’s been imprisoned. We want the Fire Nation out of Omashu. We want the food to do that and we want the weapons to do that. We want the organisation and coordination of all those willing to participate. We want to make sure there’s nobody who knows everything about the other participants in the case of capture and interrogation.”

“You know where the prisons are. There will be keys for the cells and there will be guards. They need to be targeted and there needs to be an escape route for everyone to where they can arm themselves and eat and drink something,” I add two overlapping circles to the first one.

“Fire Nation soldiers are all over the city. We will have to locate them, disarm them and bring them outside all at the same time. You could kill them, but I think that if you do, the reaction will be to burn Omashu to the ground from the outside or just starve the city entirely,” I add two more circles to the second, “Which brings me to my next point. Omashu is defensible enough, but King Bumi gave himself up to save you because you had no more food, is that correct?”

The resistance leader nods, looking like he’s heard all of this before. He probably has.

“So before all else, you will have to secure resources. The war won’t end, even if we succeed in our first two objectives. This takes priority. My suggestion is tunnelling to the settlements that are still Earthkingdom for now. Pay them with promises of protection and sanctuary in Omashu. Develop plans for keeping those settlements safe. Also develop plans for retaking those places that the Fire Nation has already occupied. You can’t resist without the resources and the Fire Nation is very good at bleeding villages dry. Reach out to Omashu’s nearest allies.”

His mouth takes on a thoughtful slant.

“Weapons. The Fire Nation has quite a lot of those, don’t you think? If you know where the prisoners are, do you know where they’ve put their armoury? Both the attack on the prisons as well as the armoury have to happen at the same time.”

“And this reminds me,” I draw another, new circle. “The Fire Nation leaders. It will be harder to defend against us, if they have no way of coordinating. We need to not only free prisoners and weapons, we also need to cut off their channels of communication and the chain of command needs to be fractured, if not destroyed completely. Soldiers who don’t know what’s going on tend to be disoriented, afraid and a little volatile. The population has to be forewarned to be vigilant. How to do that without warning the Fire Nation? Spread more news of the disease.”

I let it all settle in. Then I make squares in the dirt for each question. “How many men do you have? Who is injured and could go to secure the food? Who is good at stealth and who knows where the prisons are located? Do you have the numbers of Fire Nation patrols and guards? Do you know where they keep their birds?”

We get to work.

.

When we sit around the fire and I eat, the child manages to get at Sokka’s boomerang and chew on it. “No! No, bad Fire Nation baby!”

He begins to cry. Katara whacks Sokka over the head. He concedes the point and lets him chew on his weapon. I just hope he doesn’t hurt himself. Sokka, that is.

After a while, he crawls back over to me, demanding to be fed with a few articulate “Foo!”s.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Katara exclaims when the baby giggles as a tendril of soup winds its way towards his mouth.

“Sure he's cute now, but when he's older, he'll join the Fire Nation army. You won't think he's so cute then. He'll be a killer,” the resistance leader judges. What a grumpy individual he is. If Pakku were pessimistic instead of sarcastic they’d get along great. He’s also probably right. Fire Nation groom children to be proud of the nation and believe in a just war. War and pride tend to mean fighting and blindness to the truth of things.

I wriggle my fingers for the soup to go in a spiral and look up at the man who is frowning at the baby. “If you’re looking for a killer, you might want to move your eyes up,” I say dryly, bending soup into funny shapes, and the tips of his ears redden when he meets my gaze. Katara stiffens and Aang looks sad. “Or maybe, the killer’s in the mirror?”

The man’s face goes red, then resigned. He’s been on an emotional rollercoaster. But some of the defeat in his posture has vanished since our planning session.

Sokka looks like he wants to say something again. I shoot him a wink. Uncomfortable, he turns away. Heh. Whaddaya know, Sokka’s still sixteen. He’s also been unusually subdued all evening.

“Wa!” the baby demands my attention. I give. What a brat. I’m not doing well, indulging him. Children are cute when they’re not yours. But no one is missing a child in camp. There are no children in camp. There are barely any women, even though there’s a few in uniform around the fires.

A messenger hawk lands nearby. I wonder how those are trained to find people. That might be useful to know. For when I don’t want to be found. Or when I want to find someone. They could be followed, if you’re fast enough on the ground. But that’s all for another time.

Aang reads the contents of the message. “It's from the Fire Nation governor. He thinks we kidnapped his son. So... he wants to make a trade. His son _…_ for King Bumi.”

“Heh, no wonder you’re such a brat,” I poke his nose. He scrunches it up and opens his mouth in a demand for more food.

“So, obviously, this is a trap,” Sokka announces and I nod, even as I twist the soup into a miniature dragon. The baby loves it and readily swallows it down. That’ll be a fierce one, I can tell. Fierce soldier with some rank for the Fire Nation. How lovely.

The rebel leader nods, “But we need to free King Bumi, if we can.”

Aang nods, determination in his features.

“Well, we’ll know where he is. And if he’s there, he’ll be guarded. And if that’s the case, other places will be less guarded, eh? When we spring that trap, we might want to investigate beforehand who is going to be our opposition, so we can judge who to send where,” I say in a light voice that has Katara shooting me an irritated look. What it’s for this time, I have no clue. Maybe she didn’t think I could do childcare. She can suck it, I had to look after my brother’s kids so often, I could do this blindly. Besides, in small doses, children are cute. It’s only for now.

Sokka strokes his imaginary beard. “Who do you think would be present for the exchange?” he asks the resistance leader.

He shrugs, “The governor himself and his guard detail. Maybe his daughter.”

“His daughter?” Katara asks, frowning.

“Yes. Mai. She fights with throwing knifes, stilettos and sai. Has good aim.”

Zuko’s girlfriend is here. Future girlfriend? Who knows. So, if she’s here, how does she end up in Ba Sing Se and then back at the Fire Nation? It doesn’t sound like something nobles allow their kids to do without some higher authority’s influence. So. Does this mean that Azula shows up here? Or later?

This is such a headache. I got drunk earlier so that I wouldn’t feel so heavy. Now it’s just a bit more, only there is an energy coursing through me that reminds me of the days before the Invasion. There was so much planning to do, so much to prepare even without the worries about the scarcity of food.

“I think it’s safe to assume that there will be more guards hidden around the meeting place. Aang, where does the letter say we should bring the kid?” Sokka asks, hands now on both of his knees. It’s a good thing that Sokka’s here. He can do all the planning from now on.

“It says to bring Tom to the construction platform for the statue of Ozai at midday tomorrow.”

“So it’s safe to assume that they’ll be hiding below our feet,” Sokka surmises. “How would we get a few of the resistance benders inside the city?”

“That’s easy, just use the same entrance we used two days ago,” Katara suggests. If it hasn’t been found out, then yes. She wouldn’t suggest it if that were the case.

“But how do we hide them on our way to the meeting place?” Aang asks, then shakes his head, “Right, we can use the mist.”

“To make it less suspicious, we might have to begin fogging up the city before sunrise. The Fire Nation can’t have been here long and don’t know the weather patterns yet,” I say and wriggle my fingers in the baby’s grasp. It’s good when plans come together so easily. But no plan survives contact with the enemy, does it?

Sokka nods.

“We also might want to disguise ourselves,” I suggest as the kid climbs into my lap and attempts to scale up my chest. He’s too pudgy for it, still too uncoordinated, even if he has the strength in his body. Children’s strength is core strength and some leg. They’re also really flexible. I’d know, I was one, relatively consciously a few years ago. For my sanity, I pretend not to remember. The lack of autonomy grated most heavily, after the frustrations a small, weak, uncoordinated body brought with it.

“What for?” Aang asks.

I pretend to chase pudgy hands with my mouth, making the child giggle, “For Avatar-related reasons. If possible, you shouldn’t bend air until we have what we came for. We don’t want them to focus on you too much if we can’t defend you properly.”

Sokka tilts his head. “Yes. We should’ve done that at all our fights against the Fire Nation. If they don’t know what the Avatar looks like, they can’t find him. And if they don’t know what the people with Aang look like, they can’t find him by proxy.”

“But we don’t have any masks,” Katara says.

“I do.”

They look at me strangely. I’m not sure if it’s because of the child hanging off of my arm, or because of what I said. This toddler is very active.

“You do?” Aang asks.

“Sure,” I tickle the kid and he holds out for about two seconds before letting go of my arm. He lands with a little thump on his bum, but there are no tears because more tendrils of water distract him. “I can hardly be seen going to the market in a Fire Nation-occupied-city, can I?”

“Why? You’ve only been with us since the North Pole,” Katara says.

I hold the kid up by one ankle as he giggles, “Look at me, I’m from the Watertribe. Do my eyes give me away? My clothes? My bearing? I know nothing of Fire Nation customs or culture, aside from the fact that they hate all those who aren’t Fire Nation. And let’s be honest here, I’d never be mistaken for Earth Kingdom. It’s best if they never see my face at all.”

Aang nods. “No, you’re kind of… flowy and earthbenders are rigid.”

“But even so…” Katara interjects before I can comment on the ‘flowy’ part of that statement.

I shake my head and set the kid down. He crawls towards Sokka and his boomerang again. “I’d have to pretend to be a prisoner or something. And that only works with a guard or two. And a prison. Granted, I’d be fed, but I really don’t feel like imprisoning myself just for food. That in itself might not be granted. Then there’s the fact that I’m a bender. I’d probably be killed if that was found out.”

“Killed?” Katara frowns.

“Sure. What do you think happens to the benders they catch? I had to lead several rescue missions whenever a patrol was overwhelmed. We didn’t always make it in time.”

Her entire face and body language shuts off then, going carefully still. Sokka seems to know what that is about. After a minute or so, during which the baby has reacquired Sokka’s boomerang, she gets up and leaves. I’m not sure if it’s Aang or Sokka who had better go and handle that. Aang seems like the type to want to help, but isn’t actually able to because he doesn’t have advice to give that would help her. Sokka… well, he’s her brother and clearly the superior choice in this case. Both because he knows what has her so upset, and he might have been involved himself and dealt with it already. I don’t see him going deathly still in any case.

“Sokka?” I ask, distracting the kid from his boomerang with a snowflake on his nose.

“Yeah?” he’s staring into the flames. Maybe he hasn’t dealt with it himself yet.

“Why are you not going after her?”

“No. You should go,” he stares at me.

“What? Why would I do that?” the kid climbs back into my lap, seemingly understanding that I’m the source of the snowflake.

“Because you’re the one who upset her,” Aang says.

I frown. Well. How was I supposed to know that it was a sensitive topic? Does she feel threatened? I sigh. I had better find out.

I lift the kid onto my shoulders, holding his tiny feet, so he doesn’t slip off. He giggles and falls backwards, swaying to the tact of my walk, upside down.

Katara is near a small spring that I discarded as source for water because of its small size and slow trickle. She is perched on a boulder, knees drawn to her chest, chin on her crossed arms. I go to lean against another opposite her. The kid wants to be put down, so I let him. He goes to investigate the spring.

“Katara.”

No reaction. Wonderful. How I love teenagers.

What would get through to her? An apology, perhaps. Something vague. “I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

He head shoots up, eyes wide. Then, they narrow dangerously. Does she think I’m that much of a prick?

I sigh, rub a hand over my chin. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I realise I might not be treating you… very nicely. So, I’m sorry for that, too.”

She jerks. “You’re really apologising?”

I smile, “Sure. But I’m not only here for that. If you… would like to talk about it…” I see her rising eyebrows, “Ah. Well, the offer stands.”

I lean fully against the stone at my back and watch the kid splash about with the spring.

“I… the benders in our village were all taken. My mother-“ she cuts herself off, takes a deep breath and continues, “I had no one to teach me. And when we came to the North Pole I had to _fight_ for my teacher to teach me. And _you_ … you just-! Argh! You seem to just know everything! And your bending! I just… you make me feel so… weak.”

And angry. But. I should honour her vulnerability in telling me the truth. “It’s… Katara. Most of what I do, I taught myself. Sure, I had Pakku to guide me for years, but from the time that I understood the basics, I could advance to bending with my fingers only. It’s the sequences and katas that you need the Master for. And you’ve got them down pat. I know I’ve not explained anything to you, but Katara, I thought you’d rise to the challenge. I thought you thrived off of it. Evidently, I was wrong. And I’m sorry for assuming.”

I’m a big, fat liar. But what else is new?

Her teeth clack together audibly as she closes her gaping mouth. “Challenge?”

I shrug. “I’ve never really had anyone to compete with. I was the kid genius with a penchant for causing chaos. I had a lot of free time.”

“Sokka… Sokka said you drank with the Chief.”

“I do. Did. He’s… a friend, I suppose.”

She frowns harder. “Sokka said you behave like what you think we need.”

I slide down the boulder to sit. “Look, Katara, there really isn’t that much to it. Aang needs someone who doesn’t care how powerful he is or what responsibilities _everyone else_ thinks he has. Sokka needs someone who isn’t twelve or his sister. You need someone who doesn’t need you to be their mother.”

“Mother?” she sounds indignant.

“You care. That’s not a bad thing. But it’s not your responsibility to be a mother to Sokka, you know? And Aang only ever knew his teacher Giatsu. Me? Well, I’m older than all three of you and I grew up with my mother,” I look up at her. “You can relax a bit. We’re not going to starve, or die just because we’re silly and a little stupid.”

She looks away. Then she narrows her eyes and looks back at me to ignore my previous words. “You said… responsibilities _everyone else_ thinks Aang has. What… Don’t you think…?”

I shrug and lace my fingers to gather some water in the cup they form from the air. Sometimes the touch of water is comforting. “I don’t blame you for it. I don’t think Aang does, either. You grew up with the stories about the Avatar and how he would make everything right one day. That’s pretty clear a message to teach children: somebody else will save you. It’s a neat little trick. Not only is there hope, but it also absolves everyone from doing something about it themselves. I don’t think Aang couldn’t do it, far from it. But eventually, it comes down to what Fong demanded. Everyone wants to be saved _now_. By a twelve-year-old.”

She reels back as if stung. Yeah. I don’t envy Aang. If even his friends think he needs to defeat the Fire Lord, he won’t even think of another way. Of course, this is the path everyone sees, but when it comes down to it, one needs only one assassin. A good one, granted, but really. And once that man is gone, his insane daughter will ascend the throne and go crazy. Crazy enough to be usurped perhaps.

Katara is blinking back tears. Great. Objective make Katara un-upset: not achieved.

I grimace. “Katara. No one ever told Aang that he could just not. Besides, he feels responsible himself. He blames himself for the death of his people because he ran away. The Avatar, after all, would have had the power to save them, no? Regardless of what he could’ve actually done at his age, he blames himself. At the same time, I don’t think the Air Nomads couldn’t have just run. Something trapped them in the Temples. Then the Avatar would be in either of the Poles and might have actually died along with the slaughter of the South and reincarnated in the Earthkingdom.”

She gapes. Clearly, she hasn’t thought about this. I suppose that, when you’re told something as a child, you don’t ask for the ‘how’s behind the ‘why’s. I have no evidence at all to support this theory, but one day I’d like to ask Iroh if he knows of any documentation.

“But… he can’t just not. The whole world…”

“We would certainly have to unite all still-free people, lead them effectively against the Fire Nation and mobilise a revolt from inside as well. Yeah. Lots of people would die. They have been for the past hundred years,” I pause and look at the clouded sky. “Aang is twelve. He might be capable in a few years, but we don’t have that much time. The comet’s coming in less than a year. And even if he were capable, does that mean he has to?”

There is more silence, after that.

I don’t have an answer to that moral conundrum, either, so it’s just as well. All I know is that Aang is twelve and he has nightmares. And he’s brave and joyful and free… and running from a lot of things, including his own trauma. He may be powerful already, and brimming with potential as a bender, but that doesn’t mean he should have to fight a war on his own or at all.

“Besides, the only one who will ever save you is yourself. There might be soldiers or friends or people who fight and as a consequence, you might not have to. But doesn’t it matter that you could have? Doesn’t it matter that you could fight for your own freedom? Doesn’t it matter that the one who can make the choice between life and death for you is yourself?”

“Not everyone chooses to die,” she protests.

“Not everyone chooses to live, Katara. Some people just watch. Go through the motions. What’s life worth, living it without purpose or freedom?”

“Nothing, to you, evidently.”

I laugh softly. “You get to decide. What’s enough for you, Katara? What do you want? Who are you?”

The water forms a little sculpture of Yue. “She was just finding it out. She sacrificed herself for us. She was what we’d call a leader. In a way, a saviour. Is that what Aang is supposed to do? Sacrifice. If so, then I don’t want him to be the Avatar. I want us to save ourselves.”

Yue glitters in her light.

I melt her back into a blob of water.

“Why did you come with us?” Katara asks, finally. “Because if all this is true, then you should be elsewhere. You should really be with my father.”

I cock my head, “There aren’t many people who can make anything interesting, you know? Aang does that. Be it because he’s the Avatar or just because of his penchant for chaos. You and Sokka add more spice to the mix. I just stoke the flame.”

“Or douse it,” she mutters.

“Huh?”

“With General Fong. You just took what he said and made a fully-fledged plan out of it that made him sound just as insane as he was. I couldn’t… even Sokka said he didn’t…” where is she going with this? That’s almost a compliment. No, this is Katara. Definitely a compliment.

“For all that you’ve lived through, you still believe in the good in people.”

“You don’t?” she sounds surprised. Why is she surprised?

I shift to accommodate for the wet child crawling into my lap. “I do,” I say, looking down on the dripping boy, “but I’m also aware of the darkness inside every single one of us.”

I bend the kid dry. He shivers and snuggles into my chest. I shrug and wrap an arm around him.

“There’s good and bad. Yin. And yang. Tui and La. Yue and General Fong,” I chuckle. “Yue used to be such a little bitch. Snooty and stuck up. I’d make it a game to ruffle her feathers.”

Katara says, “You sure miss her, huh?”

“Hah,” I say, surprised despite the obvious display I must have made. “Like a hole in my heart… keep it a secret?”

Katara nods, exes big and compassionate. “Okay.”

I pet the brat’s tuft of hair. Why the hell did I admit that?

“I… I’m sorry, too,” she whispers.

“What for?” I ask, confused.

“I was… I was looking at everything from only my perspective.”

I smile. “That’s what emotions do, Katara. They influence you in the way you act, the way you think, the way you perceive others.”

“Are you telling me to get rid of my emotions?” she asks, ready to explode again. What a temper. Ready to rise even after our little heart to heart.

“No,” I laugh, “I’m just making a statement. Emotions are what makes us us. Don’t try to denounce what you feel, that only ever backfires. Just be aware that others around you also have emotions and that they’re just as real and valid as your own.”

She blinks, stunned. “But you don’t act like that at all.”

“Well,” I say, grinning, “That’s because I don’t care.” I spent another lifetime pleasing people. I have no intention of repeating that. Also, people underestimate me constantly. If you say little and do less you wander to the very back of everyone’s minds. From there, you have far more room to act. Katara is the best example of this. Although she is constantly provided with the evidence of my intelligence and brilliance, she only sees the lazy bum hanging onto them as baggage. Except, earlier and just now I’ve kind of destroyed that image, haven’t I?

She snorts. Ha! Objective: achieved. She’s not crying and I’m not expected to act nicer in the future. Life is good. Or going to be. Now, how to tell them that I’m not coming with them on their next adventure once we leave Bumi behind. Even if he might be a good enough teacher for Aang, he’s needed here quite simply because people think they need him.

“I’m going to sleep,” I tell her a few minutes later and shift the child to rest with his face pressed into my neck. She follows me back to the campfire.

We take out our bedrolls and lie down next to Aang and Sokka. The kid is sleeping soundly on my chest. I drift off to the sound of his puffing breaths.

But then Aang rolls to face me. “Kaito,” he whispers, “Are you still awake?”

Tempted to say no, I turn my head to look at him. “Mmh?”

“I don’t like this,” he admits and looks at the brat. “I mean. Taking hostages is wrong. And all this… war-stuff.”

“We wouldn’t harm the child. It wasn’t deliberate. We’re making use of the tactical advantage he presents,” I say. But he knows all that. “It’s okay not to like it. It also unfortunately doesn’t change what we’re going to do. Our enemy is brutal enough to take an entire city – not even as hostages, but as to-be-indoctrinated citizens. It doesn’t make us doing this good. It just makes it a clever step to take if our goal is to liberate Omashu and King Bumi.”

“Yes. But… I keep thinking… what if this was what the Fire Nation did to my people? If they made them think that they had me hostage, then-“

My hand reaches out before I can think and Aang latches on.

“Maybe that’s what they did. We won’t ever find out.”

Aang sobs quietly, shaking. He squeezes my hand like it’s the lifeline that’s saving him from being dragged away by a strong current. There won’t be any blood left in it soon.

“All I can say is that we’re trying to make sure this sort of thing won’t happen again. If there is a way to get through a war without doing some things you don’t like, then I don’t know it. I want peace, Aang. I hate that yours was taken from you. All we can do now is use the opportunities we have to stop the Fire Nation. This is all part of that. I wish it weren’t. I wish you’d grown up a hundred years ago, happy and free,” I pause and think of words that he could do with hearing, even if I’m uncomfortable saying them. “But you’re here with us, in this world. It’s horrible. It’s brutal. And still I’m glad to have met you.”

He struggles to breathe, keeping his voice in. I bend us a dome from the water in the air. The child’s woken up, confused sounds coming from him. So I sit up and pull Aang close and he wails.

Heaving sobs, “uuuh-uuu” sounds, and I wish I could do more. His small body shakes my frame, his hands claw at my shirt. I hold him. But this fighting is all I can do. This holding is all I’m good for, and even that-

Aang’s pain makes me want to kill somebody.

Anger, deep and hot. Hatred.

It covers pain and sadness and mourning. Helplessness.

The only cure against that last one is taking action, no matter how small.

I rub Aang’s back and hope the child doesn’t start crying in sympathy, but I think it’s too late for that. Yep. Yep. Now there’s two children crying on me.

Loving my life.

.

I’m woken by a baby’s babbling. It’s not the worst way I’ve woken up. I have a feeling I’m just in time to prevent a disaster in the form of pee on my bedroll, too and take the kid to a niche where he can pee and I can clean him quickly. The dome of ice I made last night is gone. I bended it away once both of them had fallen back asleep, trying to clean their faces without waking them up so their eyes wouldn’t be puffy.

(And if I had to clean my own as well… then it’s our secret.)

It’s close to sunrise. Time to wake Katara and Aang for some good old-fashioned weather manipulation.

Aang does great, Katara, not so much. She likes the straightforward approach. Aang’s in the right mindset for cloud-manipulation. It’s called ‘being flowy’. When Aang tries to help her, Katara gets snappish, so I wonder if I should even try. In the end, I decide to make an effort.

“Katara,” I say softly, not loud enough that she couldn’t ignore it if she wanted to.

She does cease her erratic attempts to bend clouds. Which tells me she’s ready to listen if I’ve got sound advice.

“Have you ever been underwater and just felt the water around you? The push and pull, the flow of it?”

She nods, face set in a determined manner. I’m not sure if she’s resolved not to bite my head off, or if she really wants to learn.

“Clouds are sort of like that. But instead of submerging yourself, you need to be the current that guides the clouds where you want them without changing them. They respond better to nudges than shaping.”

She gets better after that. Which might or might not be attributed to my stellar explanation.

By the time the entire city is covered in thick fog, the sun has risen.

We get breakfast and then it’s already time to enter the city.


	6. Omashu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B2 EP3

I have a feeling that despite our preparations, this might go badly. I haven’t had to feel this in a while… most prominently, I remember my fist time on patrol in the Northern Seas. We had also been attacked then, but besides a few injuries we had been fine. I never had to kill anyone then. Now I am nervous and I can tell the others are as well. The resistance know their work, so it is not them I worry for. Aang, Katara and Sokka are very nervous.

“You know no plan survives contact with the enemy,” I say and realise that doesn’t help. “So we will stick to what we know. Keep each other safe, work together and try to achieve what we came here for.”

I don’t think it helps much. “We’re doing the right thing here,” I add for Aang. “It’s alright to be afraid. But courage is not the absence of fear. It’s doing what you must despite it.”

“What’s with you and your inspirational speeches all of a sudden?” Katara asks, but she’s smiling to soften the blow. She’s correct, though.

I shrug against the straps around my torso that bind the child to me. “I’m practising giving speeches on you. Do you feel motivated yet?”

“Yes, you’re great at that,” Aang says, eyes no longer puffy. He really is too sweet for this world. He’s bounced back admirably from his sleepless night of letting the grief out for once. Aang is very resilient. That can only be a good thing, for him.

I pat Appa’s fur and the child’s back in lieu of Aang. He makes me want to give him pats all the time. I’m not sure I like how quickly he wormed his way into my affections.

What I’m really here for isn’t speeches, though. I’m good at thinking on my feet. More or less. I tend to get violent when I can’t immediately think of a clever peaceful solution. I’m not sure there is a real possibility for a peaceful solution if Azula is indeed involved. But who knows what she’s actually like.

We’ll see.

Climbing the construction platform under cover of the heavy mist sets my mind at ease a little. Even though Aang said earlier that he has a good feeling about this, I’m glad to be surrounded by my most useful weapon. It can only help against a firebender since their style of fighting against a waterbender is generally to produce larger flames than there is water and put them in the defensive from the start. And that would usually be effective. Especially during the day. But if water is everywhere… well, the princess can punch flames all she wants before she’s an icicle and has to melt herself. And that is only if she wears sufficient protective armour so that external attacks other than immobilising her for a time are useless, unless targeted precisely.

Additionally, the five earthbenders beneath our feet are on the lookout for enemy soldiers and ready to defend us immediately. It’s very useful to have allies who understand the need to protect the Avatar.

“Would you stop that?” an irritated Katara hisses at her brother for fidgeting in place.

Sokka, for the sake if sibling-irritation and perhaps to make everyone less nervous, doesn’t do as she asks with an emphatic “No.”

“Sokka!” she hisses from under her mask, “This is serious! Take this seriously!”

Aang snickers in the background as Sokka and Katara go back and forth.

We’re not there for long when three figures appear on the other end of the platform. We can only see them as dark smudges against the fog, but I’m fairly confident that we’re close to invisible with our light blue clothing and the masks. Except for Aang, of course. He’ll be an obvious target. We planned for that. He’s meant to evade as much as possible and herd enemies to unoccupied allies.

The sound of a metal chain rattling fills the air, and I can feel where the fog is misplaced by the coffin’s passage. Lovely. So they can see us or noted our arrival through the fog somehow.

Aang takes a few steps forward and I follow while Katara and Sokka stay behind. The child strapped to my chest is oddly quiet, probably feeling the tension. Maybe I should have given him to Sokka. But I am the one who can best protect himself and the child in this mist.

“Hi everybody!” King Bumi exclaims and if there’s ever a time that one can hear insanity, it’s in this man’s voice. He touches down with a muffled thump behind the three women. “I can’t see you, but I know you’re there!” So maybe he alerted them. I wonder how he does that. that earthbenders can sense through their feet when connected to the earth makes sense. Disconnected, though?

“You brought my brother?” a cool voice asks, also muffled by the thickening fog. Katara must be busy behind us. Just as planned. This must be Mai, the governor’s daughter, then.

“He’s here. We are ready to trade,” Aang says, very seriously. His eyes, instead of cataloguing the shifts in posture from the figures in front of us, are fixed on a probably grinning Bumi. Ah. Aang is very focussed on freeing his friend.

“I'm sorry, but a thought just occurred to me. Do you mind?” Of course, instead of completing the trade, the princess decides it’s time to attempt an arrest. The voice is bossy, arrogant. I don’t like it. Authority lived like that makes me want to assert my freedom.

“Of course not, Princess Azula,” says Mai. Is it ominous that she defers so easily? Perhaps she expected it. what must that friendship be like?

Sokka draws in a slow, deliberate breath. So he’s heard of her, then. Even in the Northern Watertribe I never heard much about her, but it was always made clear that she is as ruthless as she is dangerous. It’ll be different seeing it for myself. It always is.

“We’re trading a two-year-old for a king,” ah, yes, noted that, have you. I wonder how that makes Mai feel, but I can’t make out her features. Which is good, because it means she can’t see ours either. From Azula’s perspective, it really is bad tactics, even if she cares for Mai’s feelings on the matter. Which I doubt she’s inquired after. The child isn’t a royal child, is perhaps not even the heir to the noble titles the family holds. “A powerful, earthbending king.”

“Mmh-hm,” Bumi says, agreeing. It’s a problem that he doesn’t seem inclined to help. He’s obviously insane, he could play it up, act a little more helpless, harmless and like he might be more disruptive to the resistance’s efforts than helpful.

“It just doesn’t seem a fair trade, does it?” Since Azula would hardly care if it were her own brother, she probably figures that Mai feels the same. I drift backwards and allow Katara’s mist to thicken around me. The child is still good leverage, no matter if we’re getting a king for him or not.

“You’re right,” Mai tells Azula and takes a few steps forward to raise her left hand, “The deal’s off.”

And with that, the chain can be heard rattling once more and she shadow of the coffin ascends. “Whoa! See you guys later!” Bumi shouts.

Aang is not about to let him go, “Bumi!”

I don’t bother to shout for him to stay put.

He rushes forward, jumps over Azula’s blue fire and launches himself into the air on his glider. The mist is thick enough around me that I can’t see him anymore, but Azula seems to have no such problems, “The Avatar! My lucky day.”

She probably launches herself after Aang in pursuit and I hear two pairs of footsteps coming towards us. Poor, poor non-benders. Katara manages to intercept one of them, so it falls to me to take down the other. With a shift in my stance, I take hold of the mist around me and stretch my senses. Lighter footsteps come at me directly. Probably the circus girl, then. It’s all too easy to coat the wooden planks with ice and it’s even easier to use her startled skid to get behind her as she whooshes past me. I make sure to keep a good distance from her.

With a twist, she is back on her way towards me, feet now steady on the ice. I make it liquid again and catch her feet before freezing them. Then I set about closing the mist tightly around her form and freezing it.

There are noises beneath my feet, a scuffle between our benders and someone else. I decide to go help and find a ladder. The fog is less thick down here, but that helps me see where I can best help. Either the firebenders aren’t bending for fear of setting the wood on fire, or these are regular soldiers. They are surprisingly well-trained to work against earthbenders.

But clearly, a waterbender working _with_ earthbenders is too much for them to handle on their own. Not, that the earthbenders are used to back-up in the form of suddenly choking soldiers who can’t get their own spit out from their windpipes.

It’s almost too easy. Which is why I am very, very suspicious. Maybe they’ve already managed to tag someone and have the means to track them, us. It seems plausible. After all, Fire Nation is usually one for frontal assaults and attacking from behind, if possible. Not sure about those tactics with Azula here, though. We’ll have to take it as it comes, I suppose. With no idea of how her brain works, I can’t predict anything and so, countermeasures will have to be taken within moments.

If they’re going with the tracking method, they’ll probably go after the kid. And me. Wonderful. I should probably stay in the city.

“Hey, you,” I pick one of the benders, “You and I are going to lay a false trail. The rest of you, get out of the city and go underground to the camp. If we’re not back by sunrise, move on without us.”

They all nod and aside from the one I wanted with me, they all disappear. Heh, most of the time you just have to tell people what to do, and if it seems plausible, they’ll do it. Good thing, that. It’s also a good thing that they have their commander back in camp to make sure they’re not attacked. I’m not one for too much responsibility.

Carefully, I stick my head up to see what’s going on with Katara and Sokka. They’re both still there, thankfully.

“Hey, wanna come with us, or go after Aang?” I ask, and it turns out that both of them want to leave the Avatar to his joyride with Azula. That’s both good and bad. Good because Aang can have his chat with Bumi, bad because if we’re all scented, or tagged, or whatever else they come up with, it’ll be easy to follow both Team Avatar and me. Well, if it’s scent, I can manage to wash it off with Katara’s help.

We get to one of the entrances to the tunnels beneath the city. “Alright,” I say, gather mist tightly around our group and we are swallowed by the ground. “Gotta wash off our scent,” I say and nod to Katara. We work in tandem, she douses each one of our group and I remove the water from their skin and clothing. She even takes extra care with the baby strapped to my chest. He complains a little, but burrows back into my shirt. Seems he’s tired.

There isn’t much for us to do now, but wait.

“For fear of sounding like Aang, but… I’m pretty bored,” Sokka announces after some time. Of course. He needs some kind of problem to solve and keep him occupied. It’s probably one of the reasons why he’s such a great strategist. He also understands people, as I have been unfortunate enough to find out. I don’t think I’ll have to worry about him much. But then again, maybe he needs to be worried about the most. He’ll be the one with the common sense. Not, that he isn’t now. But he knows that I can be reasoned with, whereas his sister is an explosive powder keg on the best of days and Aang is twelve. Enough said.

Objectively, looking at my own successes and failures, I have constantly underestimated my enemy. First with Zhao, then with General Fong. Of course, those situations were partially out of my sphere of influence, but I’m hardly about to make that mistake a third time. Especially with Azula. She’s a rare kind of intelligent. I could hypothesise that she’s a sociopath, since that time during the solar eclipse Toph was only barely able to tell when she lied.

Although I do wonder what it is she feels for Zuko. While she has tried to kill him on multiple occasions, has tormented him throughout his childhood and manipulates him constantly, I am sure she could murder him if she really wanted to. In the fragile state he is in now, she has the upper hand in every equation that does not involve Iroh. Which leads me to wonder, what does she feel for her uncle? Some measure of fear, I’m sure. Suppressed admiration, perhaps? He is a hard man not to admire.

I’ll be glad to see him again. I wonder if he and Zuko are already in Ba Sing Se.

There are few things I can know with certainty these days. My presence here alone has brought many changes, small as they might be. I think that it might be time for a larger change than I am capable of on my own.

Thankfully, I have just the person in mind.

I know where he is and roughly understand his motivations. The problem is that he isn’t the kind to listen to ‘Could you possibly bide your time to retake your city in an efficient and productive manner to the Avatar’s cause?’ Perhaps I’ll get further with ‘That metal box can’t be comfortable. Do you really want to have to sit in your own excrements until the time is right?’ It would persuade me.

King Bumi, as most would agree, is firstly insane and only secondly a genius the likes of which only Toph outstrips. He clearly has values the Avatar can get behind. Well, he did as a child. Who knows what’s changed. More importantly, he is a known leader to the people. His decision to let the Fire Nation take Omashu was designed to be the one with the least casualties. Had he surrendered to Azula, I’m sure she would not have been nearly as civil about it as Mai’s father was. So perhaps her presence can be used to persuade him also.

That’s another change I’d like to make. If these two cities, Omashu and Ba Sing Se, were the only bastions of the Earth Kingdom’s strength, why not form another more formidable one? There are plenty of earthbenders in the camp to build an entire fortress within weeks. Why not choose a strategically sound stretch of land with access to sea through either underwater tunnels or a river and build a city. A city erected entirely for the purpose of a revolution.

Now, this isn’t supposed to become a delusion of grandeur. It is meant to be a symbol of hope and freedom. Fight for it if you want, be a farmer if you don’t. Open a bleeding tea shop, if you’re into that.

My largest obstacle to this are the resources we lack. The trade routes that would need to be established are another problem. So we start small. I have no intentions of overreaching. That could be worse than scattering the fighters.

“Does he always get this vacant expression?” the earthbender I ordered around asks, a slightly worried note in his voice. It’s the one from last night who built the well.

“Kind of,” Sokka replies, glancing at me with an odd glint in his eyes.

“No, definitely,” Katara says. Ouch. And here I was, thinking I might be making some progress with her. “But he only looks that way to appear harmless.”

Hearing that warms my heart, truly.

The earthbender shudders, “Ah, yes. The way those men suddenly began choking… I didn’t know waterbenders could do that. I’m sure he could have done much worse than that.”

“He has,” Katara mutters darkly.

“He also saved our lives on multiple occasions,” Sokka throws in like the loyal person he is.

“He bended their spit, Sokka! Who even thinks of something like that?”

Someone who is aware of the body’s weak points, dear Katara. It’s not like it’s very tricky with the basic knowledge of anatomy that I have. That she has. Is she aware how dangerous benders are?

Because it’s not only me who can do that. Aang could stop the air flowing through someone’s windpipe if he were so inclined. Perhaps, if he were determined enough, he could create a vacuum. I’m not entirely sure about this, but I think there’s a possibility that firebenders could remove all body heat from someone they touch, or boil them alive. And earthbenders… the human body is carbon-based, isn’t it? If a bender can manage to decompose earth at it’s base, maybe they could do the same to a human body. Or, failing that, use their hair to strangle the opponent, if it’s long enough.

“Ah, but you can’t deny it wasn’t effective,” the earthbender throws in, in an unexpected show of support. Must’ve been a soldier for a while, then.

I hum quietly and blink my eyes owlishly, as if awaking from a daydream. I turn to Sokka, “Sokka. What would be the most strategically sound place for a base of operations for resistance fighters? Consider trade routes, access and visibility. Don’t worry about the lack of other buildings or previous inhabitants. The terrain can be altered.”

Instead of questioning me he puts his thinking face on. I suppose he knows that Katara’s expression means he won’t have to. I sigh in her direction, shift the sleeping kid around a little and shrug. “As you know, I am travelling with you guys because it’s convenient and the Avatar needs a teacher,” I hold my hand up to stop any arguments, “Well, it turns out, as of tomorrow, it’ll be more convenient for my plans to actually stop the war before the Comet that I leave you to it. And Aang has you to teach him all the katas he was too bored with to learn. Now all you guys have to do is get creative. I, on the other hand, intend to see if I can’t help out the resistance fighters here. We need to spread the knowledge about the Comet as well. It might cause some panic, but every leader of resistance and opposing army should know.”

Her mouth snaps shut. Her eyes flicker all over my face. Then she sets her chin determinedly.

“Teach me.”

I furrow my brow. “You’re your own master, Katara.”

“You-” she begins, cuts herself off, takes a deep breath and stares at me with determined focus, “Teach me the way you think.”

“Ah,” I say and smile at her without condescension. “To think like me, you would need to come to a great many conclusions about possibility.”

“Possibility?” she repeats.

“Yes. What are the limits, Katara? What are the boundaries you have set yourself not to cross, and which are the boundaries society has made you believe? Where is the end to the possibilities?”

“Metalbending,” the earthbender answers immediately.

I nod at him, “Yes, your fellow benders have made you believe it is impossible, and so, for you, it is. But is metal not of the earth? What is it about metal that makes it so hard to work with? Is it because of its structure? Its temperature?” I turn back to Katara, “Other limits are societal ones. There are things I could do as a man that you would never even consider as a woman. Even you, who has successfully changed Pakku’s view on the subject of teaching women to bend. It might be something small, like the way you dress. It might be how you would behave in a larger group. It might be what specifically you would be afraid of if you were captured by the enemy. Who will underestimate you because of your gender and age? Then, physical laws. Aang defies gravity every day. With the right invention, you could, too.”

Silence, then, “The key to creativity, Katara, is inspiration. A thought that spirals into possibility. Keep your eyes open. You might find inspiration in the most unlikely of faces.”

“Faces?” she repeats again.

I smile wanly, “Or other body parts, if you’re into that.”

She blushes heavily.

“Or places,” the earthbender adds, stonecold. He and I will be good friends.

I nod at him, “Those, too.”

“Speaking of places,” Sokka re-joins the conversation, “You know Full Moon Bay?”

I give a nod. Yes, the map detailed the place, but it’s so close to Ba Sing Se that I’m not sure I like it. And isn’t that where all the refugees cross over to the city?

“Anywhere in the area around it should be fine, so long as whatever you build is hidden from sight. And if you can tunnel through to the other side, that river that flows by the mountains of Omashu gives you easy access to the open sea. Disguised as Fire Nation it should be no problem to get past the battlements.”

He’s not wrong. He’s actually very right. What would it take for me to make our ships look like regular patrols? What would it take to keep suspicious eyes away?

Is it possible to sway soldiers and citizens to our side even now? What is stronger than a century of propaganda? Omashu is a tricky terrain for a first start to begin with. The soldiers have just taken a city. This little incident today will show them that when they do not know to make use of their own home advantage, they will get their noses bloodied. But I’m sure they have something planned. I am fairly certain that if they haven’t attacked the camp by now, they will be in position to take the resistance forces out as soon as they move.

So, why not take the city?

Why not have the resistance fighters return through the front gates?

“Sokka. Katara,” I say and look at each of them, then I turn to the earthbender with a grin, “And you.”

“My name is O-Ting,” he introduces. I shake his hand, “Kaito.” We nod at each other, both not men of many words where they are unnecessary.

I rub my hands together. I have a feeling I would look more menacing without the baby strapped to my chest. “We are going to liberate Omashu. Today.”

“WHAT? What about the two week plan?” Katara shouts. I didn’t stutter, did I?

O-Ting begins to laugh. Surprisingly enough, it’s not disbelieving. Yes, we will be great friends. Sokka’s jaw looks like it might reach the floor soon. Maybe the u-turn from a possible new hideout to retaking Omashu was too much for him. Although many things appear to be too much for him, and he still comes around. He’s very adaptable. That’s a very good trait to have. Sokka has many of those.

“Sokka, think of how we can best retake the city. O-Ting, think about how we can get the word to the camp and how to let them know to lay traps for the Fire Nation troops breathing down their necks. Katara, when you heard her talk, what did you think of Azula?”

“Azula?” Right, they won’t have been introduced properly yet.

“The Fire Nation Princess. Zuko’s younger sister. She’s the one who’s chasing down Aang right now,” I do wonder how that fight is going. I remember Aang had enough time to speak with Bumi alone. Somehow, I’m not quite sure it’s going to be the same now.

“She seemed… cruel. Isn’t Tom-Tom the other girl’s younger brother?”

“Yes, he is. And Azula isn’t so wrong in her assessment. If we had Bumi, I don’t think there’s much his soldiers wouldn’t be ready to do. On top of that, I’m not lugging this extra weight around with me for much longer. Which means returning him to his family.”

She frowns, but nods, concedes the point. Good. If she can reason with me, and I with her, she will have a much easier time with stubborn personalities, like she and I are. “She was fast. She could identify Aang through the mist.”

“Yes, she could. So aside from being cruel, intelligent and quick, we know she wants the Avatar. Be it to take that victory away from her brother, who is hunting Aang, or to rise further in her father’s good graces. It might also just be what she thinks is best for her side’s war efforts. I’m sure that, should she see Aang leave the city, she would follow without hesitation. Which would leave the city governed by a man who wants his son back. A man, who actually believed in a made-up illness. Granted, you all looked very sickly to me, but instead of quarantining you, he allowed you to leave. I’m sure Azula’s arrival has changed his perspective. The question is, how much? The reason I want to do it in one day is because the Fire Nation has troops all over the surrounding lands. You need to be quick and you need to secure the food resources soon. You can’t spend too much time retaking the city.”

Katara sits there and frowns, deep in thought.

O-Ting clears his throat, “We could borrow one of the messenger hawks. But that would make the commander suspicious. So we need a runner.”

“Right,” I decide to say as I mull over his reasoning. I suppose that a scout could find us relatively easily once the city is liberated. But what if we need more manpower? Depending on our course of action, Katara or I could use Appa as transport through the mist and make contact with the resistance that is already preparing to retake the city, but slower than it should be. A tunnel is already being dug to the nearest free settlements.

“But how will they know to leave traps for the Fire Nation troops?” I ask and he thinks on that some more.

“He will be worried about losing his position as governor,” Katara says carefully, “And while he will want his son returned to him, he knows trading Bumi is not on the table. He won’t order the soldiers out of the city in exchange either. So what do we want that he has, that he will trade?”

That’s a very good question… Oh.

I have an idea. “How about,” I begin slowly, a grin stretching my mouth, “We tell him to order a free passage for the already escaped resistance fighters? He will mistake our intentions for wanting to retreat in safety if we can’t have King Bumi. I don’t think that even Azula would suspect us turning the other way. It could be what she might do, but since she thinks of herself as superior, she won’t believe we aren’t going for the straightforward approach.”

O-Ting looks vaguely amazed, in a very stoic way and Katara and Sokka’s faces bear mirror smiles.

“Okay,” I touch my palms together softly, so I don’t wake the baby. “If this works, where do the Fire Nation troops closing in on the resistance fighters go?”

“Back to the city?” Katara suggests.

I point a finger at her and nod, then turn to O-Ting. “Do you know the terrain around the city?”

“I do.”

“Which routes could they take and which ones are the most likely? Do you think they would take multiple ones? Where would they hide if they decided to ambush the fighters later? What about that horde we encountered trying to get past the mountain instead of through the Lover’s Cave?” oh, this is so exciting. Maybe my decision to go with the Avatar was the superior one after all. I might not even have to give up on that third Earth Kingdom stronghold. If this campaign succeeds, I will probably be in the resistance’s good graces. They might decide to help me carve out that niche in Full Moon Bay.

And Bumi. That man could do his waiting-for-the-most-opportune-moment-stint somewhere he might dole out a great deal of damage to the Fire Nation while he waits. Oh, and if I manage to get something coherent out of him regarding ideas about working on the minds of Fire Nation citizens and soldiers, that would be magnificent! Changes, changes.


	7. Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOK 2 EPISODE 3 AND DIVERGENCE

Our first order of business is to confirm Aang’s status. Is he still fighting, or have he and Bumi gotten away somehow? If so, where are they? Where is Azula? She must have plans for capturing Aang. She must also be aware of the unnatural mist by now. It has probably made her more cautious.

Since the chutes are sadly too conspicuous a mode of transportation, O-Ting takes us to where they end and which one he thinks Aang and Bumi ended up taking. The fog is less thick down here and as it is, we are incredibly lucky to immediately find their trail. The two aren’t far, but the ease with which we track them worries me. Aang needs to be a bit more cautious.

“… I’d have really liked for you to be my teacher,” Avatar Dejected says.

There is a beat of silence before Bumi yabbers, “Your teacher will be someone who has mastered the third Jin. They will be someone who waits and listens before striking.”

“But I already know someone who does that!” Aang protests and I can feel a sneeze tickling my nose.

We round the corner and find them having a conversation where Aang sits on top of Bumi’s coffin. Has Bumi revealed his facebending skills yet? And where is the princess?

“Who? Them?” Bumi asks shrewdly, one eye widening as he zooms in on us, the other narrowing. It’s quite a sight. As his eyes pass over O-Ting, Sokka and Katara I wonder what he is basing his conclusions on. Certainly, most teenagers won’t be the ones to wait and see, but O-Ting is an earthbender and he will have been in enough combat situations to know when and where he can best strike. Perhaps Bumi is usually a better commander and knows his soldiers. Me, though? I’ve got the baby strapped to my chest and so, don’t look even vaguely threatening, even with the mask on.

For a long moment, our eyes meet. Then he grins insanely, “Him! But no! He hasn’t mastered the third Jin! He mastered the twenty-fourth!”

What? Can he see my stats? What level am I?

“And what _is_ the twenty-fourth Jin?” Aang asks.

“Pre-emptive striking!”

That does fit me. I used the sequence Aang showed me to create the means to repel some of the Fire Nation fleet before the invasion. Instead of allowing General Fong to put horrible ideas in Aang’s head, I argued with him in a way that made Aang question everything the man said. When we went into that ambush today I was careful to give us some advantages.

“Ah, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, King Bumi,” I manage to say over my thoughts. It sounds more like the Jin-thingies are common sense to people who are willing to fight a war.

His grin widens, “Likewise!” Oh spirits, I did not anticipate how creepy he is in real life. I need to learn that eyebrow-thing to freak people out.

“It’s good to see you again,” Katara says, smiling warmly.

“That it is, young waterbender!” So polite. I suppose, being a King and all, he can be cordial if he wants to be.

I’m still waiting for Sokka to greet the King, too, when O-Ting stiffens beside me. “We are being surrounded,” he mutters, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lovely. Thankfully, I have King Bumi, the Avatar, Katara, Sokka and O-Ting on my side of the metaphorical trench. It makes me feel a little more confident. That, and the mist I draw towards us. It will only be useful until Aang has used maybe two or three attacks, but I’m not too worried, since I’m already in the process of freezing the seams of Bumi’s coffin for O-Ting or the man himself to break open.

Thankfully, neither of them has to be told what I want them to do, and I can turn my mind towards those lovely empty storage crates to line them with ice and fill them with water from the mist. I take care not to let any sloshing be heard over the sounds of metal tearing and groaning. It’s always good to have options.

While the mist swallows up some of the noises, I can now hear twenty or so armoured soldiers approaching, blocking off our escape routes. Among them must be the lighter, unheard footsteps of Azula and her two friends, I’m sure of it. Once I locate them properly, I think it would be best for me to engage Azula, baby strapped to my chest and all. Of course, she will hardly care, and usually I would judge Bumi or Aang to be best suited to take her on, but at this moment, while there is still mist impeding her sight, I can slide around most of her attacks and unbalance her.

After all, one moment is all I need to tear a hole in her guard and maybe her throat. Not, that I’m a fan of killing one of the main teenage antagonists Aang has. Sadly, her living could mean a great deal of horrible moments of regret for me. That is, difficulties that could have been avoided. Difficulties that could cause my death. Azula is just that kind of dangerous to deal with.

And she’s insane. Let’s not forget that she was raised to become a sociopath.

There isn’t much to be done for me now, but to wait and listen for a time to strike. I am so glad the baby is still asleep.

As the others shift into positions they will use to their advantage, I get a better grasp on the mist surrounding us and try to spot Azula’s exact position. She wears armour, doesn’t she? And she’s about of a height with Mai who is taller than Katara. As I make the mist brush up against the individual enemy ambushers, I find both Mai and the Circus Girl, their clothing making them easy to distinguish from the rest. They are closer to Bumi and Aang than any others. Azula could be one of two, either closest to Sokka or myself and O-Ting, who has remained close by my side.

I shift my stance into something of a grounded one, purposefully dragging my feet over the ground audibly. It creates the sound of gravel against stone and vaguely reminds me of what earthbending sounds like, if it’s on a very small scale. It also makes the one Possibly-Azula only a few paces away hone in on my location. A few muttered words drift to my ears, but I can’t make out the syllables.

Am I doing this Third-Jin-thing right? I’m not sure. But what I do know, is that I have goaded her into an attack.

Her initial blast of flames serves to confirm my position. I allow it and sidestep audibly. Then she moves as close as she dares. She kicks two rapid swaths of blue flames. One is at the height of my knees, the other comes level with my chest. Two equally quick slashes of water intercept and cancel out the attack.

Throughout our entire confrontation, the mist is a great asset to me. It allows me to ‘see’ her movements and intercept any attacks easily. Too easily. This is not Azula. The princess would have recognised this from the very beginning. She would not bother with bending until she is close enough to touch.

As I come to this conclusion, I concentrate, take hold of my opponent’s ankles and bend an icy projectile to knock her out with a blow to the back of her head. She crumples to the ground. No one else has moved during out exchange. Suspicious. And how come the ‘Fake’ Azula also bended blue fire? It’s something I might be able to ask Iroh when I meet him again.

No matter, we will find out soon enough. With another slash I attack Azula, who dodges deftly and hones in on my position. She charges. My heartbeat drums in my chest. She is fast. Spirits, is she fast. I have a new respect for Zuko now.

But the mist still gives me an advantage. Before she can reach me, I’ve frozen the ground beneath her feet, bended a slash of water at the height of her waist and gotten a grip on her spit to yank her head forward. The result is a truly impressive flail that produces just enough of a firebending attack to remove the slash of water. She skates closer. On flames.

Ah, I wish there weren’t any other people around, so that I could lead her on a merry chase. As it happens, I’ve got a baby strapped to my chest and friends at my back.

She blasts right through the wall of ice I form in her path, but a simple slide to the side on my part has her skidding past me, even as hot flames attempt to lick at my face. While she is agile enough to use one of the buildings to flip herself around and charge again, I manage to bend a large tendril of water, hidden by the mist still cloaking most of the area. It slaps her to the ground with a splash.

I wish I could see her face.

Quickly, I take the opportunity to freeze her to the ground, covering her entire body. She will melt through it, but I have no time to worry about that, because there are soldiers closing in on me, as well as the Circus Girl.

They are as annoying as they are tenacious. Soon, instead of mist, the area is covered in steam. Just as well, it’s still water. Hot water that burns the skin it touches. Screams of pain surround me. Lovely, just what I need to fuel my nightmares. Maybe Aang’s too.

Only the Circus Girl is agile enough to avoid my attacks. I figure any spikes of ice I send her way will be easily dodged, since she’s been friends with Mai and Azula since she was a little girl. And the icy ground doesn’t work on her twice. She’s a challenge.

My best bet against her are moving miniature icebergs that block her on every attempt to close in on me. It’s funny hearing the ‘thunk’s as she slams against them again and again. The baby giggles. He must have woken up at some point. Spirits, this one’s going to be a handful once he can run.

While I deal with Circus Girl and the annoying firebenders, Katara is in a vicious fight with Azula while O-Ting is taking on a very competent Mai. Bumi, Aang and Sokka are fighting the benders, as well as the normal soldiers. None of them aim to kill.

My remaining two firebenders blast one of the moving icebergs and while I take them down with hard yanks on their necks and consecutive choking, Circus Girl manages to use my distraction to her advantage. She vaults over the iceberg blocking her path, closes in on my right side and gets two hits in on my arm. It goes limp immediately, releasing one of the firebenders and making two of my ice constructs splash into water.

Even as she goes for a third hit, I kick her somewhere in her stomach area hard enough to smash her against my last iceberg. The firebender she managed to save attacks me from behind. I would dodge. I would. Spirits fucking damnit, Circus Girl is one of their own and their best bet against me with Azula now focussed on Bumi somewhere to the left. I know that intercepting that fireball is magnanimously stupid, even if my arm’s already hanging limply from my shoulder. It’s moronic on a level that should be a criminal offence.

Maybe it’s that I know her to ultimately be one of the good guys. Maybe it’s that she looks so much like a child with that wide-eyed, disbelieving look on her face.

All I know is that this is the last time I’m ever taking a hard blast of flames from a firebender at point-blank range for an enemy. It fucking _hurts_.

Even as I go to one knee to protect the baby and my throat from the other fireball coming my way, I am given another reason to regret this lapse in judgement: Aang goes into the Avatar State. A quick look around tells me that Azula has defeated Katara and Sokka is on his knees.

This has one positive side-effect. The soldiers around me need a moment to gather their bearings. Not only them, but also the Circus Girl recovers a little more slowly, so that I can struggle to my feet. But instead of resuming our fight, as I had anticipated, she spins away from me.

She spins away from _me_ towards a slowly standing _Sokka_. His back is turned, eyes fixed on where his sister is being held to the ground by four Fire Nation soldiers. Her hands ball into fists, her intention to take him out is clear.

His unprotected back is suddenly my entire world. She will not harm him, the Firelord-worshipping, shit-throwing little cunt of a Circus Whore! She’s going _down_!

A hard leap and she’s on the ground, gasping. She desperately struggles to breathe, but I press my knee to her breastbone, all of my considerable weight bearing down on her lungs. Her already abnormally large eyes bug out of her skull. Her earlier so strong and precise hands flutter uselessly against my thigh.

With a grunt, I bare my teeth, a facial gesture that collects her saliva in her throat. Ineffective coughing adds to her struggle. I open my jaws, and clamp them shut to slice her neck open from the inside. The sound of my clacking teeth reverberates within my head.

“AANG!” Katara’s desperate shout cuts off the noise as it is made. It breaks my concentration. There is now blood lining Circus Girl’s lips. My eyes dart towards the Avatar.

The sound of bones snapping as I push off from her limp body registers. I ignore it.

I ignore it in favour of shoving all my strength behind a kick that shatters Azula’s forearm. A forearm sparking with lightning.

Shit. But even as I go down, landing hard on my burnt shoulder to protect the baby, Azula howls with pain, so that has to be a good thing.

As I lie on the ground, my eyes seek out the prone form of the Circus Girl. She has curled in on herself, around her broken ribs, and is hacking out blood, which can’t be helping. Damn. What a mess.

And we’re not halfway done.

This is proven by Azula’s foot about to make its violent acquaintance with my face. I manage to roll out of her way just so, straining my remaining functional arm far too much, so I don’t squish my precious cargo.

A slashing motion with my left hand sends another swipe of water her way and she blasts it. She has me on the defence and she knows it. “Time for payback!”, she declares gleefully, as I am forced to retreat, step by step, only dodging or nullifying her attacks to protect the baby.

I’m only glad that she’s temporarily forgotten Aang as he violently takes out every single one of Katara’s captors. I wonder if he can actually remember what he’s doing once he’s back to himself. It seems kind of like a berserker-state. He does dream about it, so I suppose at the very least his subconscious remembers somewhat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch O-Ting deal with two benders at once, and Bumi catches a slumping Aang. I see Sokka blow Appa’s whistle. Good thinking. With Aang down and Katara’s condition unknown, we should beat a hasty retreat. Not to mention my limp and burnt arm.

My back hits a wall. Fuck.

I search for a means of escape. I only need to hold out until Appa appears. The crates! The crates I prepared are to my left. Thank my penchant for preparedness!

Azula’s eyes scream triumph as she makes a motion to blast me with fire.

She catches the movement of my left arm and widens her eyes in surprise. But her foot his halfway to my face already, flames about to burn my skin. The violent burst of water that slams her to the side takes her down hard. I think I see her head ricochet off of the ground.

Something sharp and steely almost buries itself in my neck. I manage to throw myself to the side just in time. Nasty. I put a comforting hand on the back of the baby strapped to my chest.

With relief, I see O-Ting engage Mai in a game of dodging. A closer look at Azula shows that either she’s very good at pretending to be unconscious, or she is out for the count.

Appa announces himself and slaps down his tail with a gust of wind that blasts all remaining soldiers to the ground. Quickly, we all pile on. Aang is a limp noodle where Bumi’s deposited him, Katara’s bleeding from a wound on the back of her head, Sokka looks like Mai made him tapdance and he’s the worst dancer in existence. Bumi and O-Ting appear relatively unscathed. Sokka takes Appa’s reins.

So, Katara’s headwound needs fixing first, then my arm as she looks Aang over. There is enough moisture in the air for me to heal the worst of it.

Once she’s fussing over Aang, I concentrate on unblocking the chi in my right arm.

It’s trickier than I remember when I learned it from Yugoda, but I do manage. I even tend to my burn enough that it’s only the outer most layers of skin that are damaged.

Again, I am ready to fight just in time.

Hot airballoons with the Fire Nation flag appear out of the mist. They must have been lying in wait ever since the failed hostage exchange. That they would use our own cover against us…

I’m quick to slice open balloon after balloon. But I’m unable to deflect all of the chains they shoot to wrap around Appa. The combined weight of two of them pull Appa to the ground and us with him.

We’re just above the canyon where the resistance is still hiding. I hope they have a look-out for the sky. There could be dozens of people about to be crushed beneath burning hot metal and wood.

“Bumi, will you protect Aang?” I ask, already thinking about how much time we’ve got to free Appa.

“Sure thing!” the man grins madly, just as we impact the ground. Appa has managed to cushion the fall with a heavy swat of his tail. He’s a smart one.

“Katara, we need to free Appa as quickly as we can! You need to inform the Commander of what’s happened and help defend the resistance. Sokka, you need to bring O-Ting to the other end of the canyon and raise a wall to delay the Fire Nation troops stationed there. I will negotiate with the governor and see how far the princess has recovered,” with the plan put into words, the horrified looks on Sokka and Katara’s faces ease into determination. O-Ting appears as a man ready to do his worst. The baby strapped to my chest seems ready to cry his eyes out, but a soothing hand on his back has him stifle his tears with a sniffle.

I don’t think this is normal behaviour for a baby. In fact, most of his behaviour up until now is suspicious…

Katara and I freeze the chains and Bumi fissures them easily. Katara and Bumi leave to speak with the Commander with an unconscious Avatar in tow. Sokka makes a reluctant Appa take off in the direction of the Fire Nation troops. I tend to the worst of his cuts.

Once we reach the slimmest part of the canyon, O-Ting and Sokka get off of the flying bison. I waste no time returning to the city. Once again, I enter through the sewers. A thought occurs to me. I unstrap the baby from my chest while we’re still in the tunnel, take off is diaper and have him do his business where it belongs. He’ll be fed as soon as he’s with his family or I find some baby-safe food. I don’t re-strap him to my chest.

.

The governor is in Bumi’s palace with his wife and daughter. While I hesitate to approach while Mai is present, I have no time to lose. Stepping from the shadows, I have the pleasure of seeing Mai’s eyes widen in surprise. I’m sure very few have managed that.

“Tom-Tom!” the governor’s wife exclaims and the baby turns his head to look at his mother. He makes grabby motions at her.

I smooth a hand over the back of his head. He’s been exceptionally brave these past few hours. “Good afternoon,” I say, enjoying the apprehensive way they look at me maybe a little too much.

“He-Hello,” the governor greets, exchanging a worried glance with his wife.

“I’ve come for re-negotiations”, I say and cast a wry look at Mai. Her lips thin. “How is the princess, by the way? I hope I didn’t give her a concussion.”

The governor stiffens and Mai’s face twists into something I’d be more afraid of, if I hadn’t met Yue. Or Azula. “She is recovering just fine.”

“Lovely to hear,” I lie. I make a show of moving on, “I will just lay out our demands, shall I?”

She makes a get-on-with-it gesture. So impatient. Well, that does suit me rather well today.

“In exchange for…” I look down at the baby, “The brat,” he puffs out his cheeks and tries to dislodge the mask I have over my face. I catch his grabby little fingers in my hand gently. “We would like you to remove all Fire Nation troops from the area surrounding Omashu.”

“What,” it is a flat statement instead of a question.

I grin at her as I distract her brother with my fingers, even if she can’t see it with my mask on. “I don’t think I stuttered.”

“Unacceptable.”

I raise a brow. “I’ll just go then, shall I?”

She pulls knives from her sleeves. “Without my brother.”

Hilarious. I raise my hand from little Tom-Tom’s grasp and clench it into a fist. Mai’s mother begins to choke on her own spit. The baby makes a distressed noise. I don’t like it, but I’d rather threaten his mother than the brat himself. That, and I’ve already got him in my arms. The threat to him is obvious. But a threat to me personally means I need to make a direct one as well. That’s how negotiations work today. Mai looks even more murderous. Nice to know she cares.

“Are we ready to reconsider yet?” I ask gently and with deliberate motions she tucks her knives away. I open my palm. The woman coughs roughly and sucks in desperate breaths.

“I can’t remove all troops from the canyons,” Mai says flatly.

“Too afraid of what the princess might say?” I mock and her fingers clench into fists, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Well, thankfully, we aren’t too greedy today. In exchange for little Tom-Tom here, you will guarantee us safe passage through the mountains of Omashu.”

She hesitates, like she wants to say ‘no, fuck you very much’, but a glance at her still wheezing mother has her give a nod.

“Lovely,” I say and move to the balcony, drawing mist about myself. “You’ll get him back once the troops have laid off on their assault and the resistance is safely out of reach.”

At the moment, there is little point returning to the others. If they are losing the fight, one more waterbender will hardly make a difference in an environment where groundwater is sparse and the mist has already been burned away by the sun. There is something else I might be able to do once the baby calms down a little and has had something to eat. My stomach grumbles. It appears, I should eat, too.

The palace kitchens aren’t hard to find and lo and behold, there is an entire cupboard dedicated to babyfood. The cooks eye me warily and even though they have the Fire Nation’s colouring don’t seem to mind me whipping up some sustenance for the two of us. It might be one of those moments where they weren’t informed of any deals their master has made, but since I don’t appear to be a fugitive and am only cooking, they figure I’m allowed inside.

They do seem rather weary of me, though. It might be the mask, it might be my obviously-watertribe garb, it might be the half-healed burn on my shoulder. The wound pulls and stings with every movement.

I take a bowl from the stack that are probably meant for the soldiers to eat out of, gather water from the trough that is filled by a continuous trickle through a deliberate-looking opening in the wall and sit down. The baby is still in my lap and is patiently waiting for the food to heat up. He also watches fascinatedly, along with every other person present, how I heal my shoulder.

Someone gasps. I look up and without my notice, the majority of them have gathered around me in a non-threatening half-circle. They all wear various expressions of awe and disbelief.

“What?” I ask in a flat voice, just to see if they will cower. Most do, but a few women remain standing. Odd. But then again, all the men are barely pubescent boys. They were probably born to this and have become used to cowering at hearing that tone of voice. Actually, don’t the Fire Nation treat their servants like slaves? Azula does, doesn’t she? What about nobility? Do the servants work for money?

“You can heal,” an elderly woman states. It is probably meant to sound like a fact, but awe colours her tone.

I shrug my shoulders, glad I can use both for the motion now. “Waterbender.”

More gasps and a few of the younger ones take a step back. What kinds of stories are they told? My disapproval must show because some of them step forward again. Or it’s defiance of their own fears.

To see how they react to bending that isn’t healing, I bend a tendril of the thick soup I’ve thrown together for the baby and myself. I watch them closely as I swallow down the soup. At first glance, it appears harmless, but I can see exactly who understands that what I can bend outside of my body, I can bend inside, too. They are the woman who spoke earlier and one of the boys. Smart one, that. I wonder why he’s not being made into a soldier. I figure an expanding Nation such as the Firelord’s would not dismiss intelligence from their ranks.

The soup is just warm enough to be perfect for the baby. I begin the game of feeding him with dragons and the like.

None of them step away, but both the woman and the boy stare at me closely like they think they can read my mind if they only try hard enough. Once the little brat is fed, I manipulate the earlier healing water into mist, watch all of them recoil a little and get my own bowl of hot soup. I watch them watch me with more than a little amusement.

“You have questions,” I prompt. Which is something I’m not usually prone to, but I need to see what these people value. I need to see if they can be convinced of the fact that the people they conquer aren’t inherently weak, or somehow lesser than they.

The woman nods and takes a seat across from me. “Who are you?”

“I’m from the Northern Watertribe,” I contemplate adding my name, but decide on something else, “I’ve been teaching the Avatar.”

She stiffens at the mention and I watch her expression closely. Her mistrust has grown. But her want for information doubly so. I don’t believe she’s only a cook. She probably knows everything that goes on in the palace. She’s the kind of person I’ll be needing on my side of the revolution.

“The Avatar,” she begins carefully, “They say he is the one who disappeared a hundred years ago.”

This seems like news to most of the others. Interesting.

“Aang is only twelve years old.”

Her eyes narrow. “Is he the same one?”

I don’t stiffen or change my expression. I gauge and watch. “I’ve never asked him. But he is an airbending Master.”

The boy from earlier nods at the confirmation that it is. The woman gives a tight smile. She knows that I could be blatantly lying. She’s in an interesting position. There is no one else here to tell her what to think. She gets to ask her own questions and has to sort through my answers by herself.

“They don’t speak about the defeat at the North Pole. Was it entirely the Avatar who sunk most of the fleet?” she is rather well-informed. Or she understands the value of me believing she is and has the skills to make it a plausible conclusion to come to.

I smile even though she can’t see it behind my mask. My eyes crinkle, though. “Although he gave us what we needed to win, the Avatar did not take direct action in the battle until he sufficiently communicated with the Spirits in the Spiritworld.”

Her eyes narrow while various sharp inhales can be heard throughout the kitchen. I would really like to take a look at the syllabus they employ in the Fire Nation. Of course, Spirits are to be feared, mostly, but while they can be dangerous and full of trickery, there are those who are genuinely good.

“Is the Avatar here to free King Bumi?”

Ah, they fear for their livelihood. While the resistance is outside of the city, their powerful King is still within and a threat looming over their heads. “Yes. He has partially succeeded.”

“What?” the boy bursts out.

I cast him a wry look. He shrinks back a little, but not by much. “King Bumi and the Avatar have left Omashu.”

“It’s New Ozai now!” a girl pipes up.

I can’t hold back the chuckle. “Sure it is, sweetheart.”

She just looks confused at that. Like whatever has been decreed by her ruler is automatically the truth. I stroke my hand over the soft hair on the brat’s head with a sigh. “I don’t know how it is in the Fire Nation, but the Watertribe has a long memory. So do the people of the Earth Kingdom, except for Ba Sing Se.”

“What about Ba Sing Se?” the woman asks immediately. I'm not sure about saying too much. She will probably have contacts to tell her what goes on there if she asks the right questions.

“The Dai Li is dangerous in more than one way,” I say cryptically, but I can see understanding flash in her eyes. So she knows of the secret agents. And now she knows to be wary for more reasons than the fact that they are secret agents.

“Dai Li?” the boy asks, confused. I remain silent and nod my head at her. He should ask that woman. They can hardly trust a word I say in the first place.

Instead of explaining, the woman suddenly demonstratively looks at the baby in my lap. “Is he your hostage?”

“Mmh,” I hum in amused agreement. She is smart. By making it seem that she knows things that could be potentially useful for the others to know, I have slightly undermined her position. Now she needs to show them that I am dangerous and not to be trusted to protect herself.

“Are you allowed to be in the palace?”

“How else would we have negotiated?” I ask and just this once, I think she has fallen for a trick like that. Maybe threatening her position did the trick to diverting part of her mind to the task of damage control.

“Is it wise to stay? We could attempt to take him from you,” she suggests, even though she knows their chances are very, very low.

While I decide on what to say, the brat has made up his mind on breaking his silence since we left his mother behind. “Ba!” he says and slaps his chubby hands on my collarbones.

I poke his nose with some quickly bended water from the trough. He giggles and attempts to catch it, but it turns into mist as he reaches it and becomes liquid again once he flails with a wriggle of my fingers. Her gaze has impossibly softened at the display. That was suspiciously good timing. Either this baby has superpowers for being convenient for me, or he can read the mood and make decisions that an adult would…

Am I being paranoid? Is it that because I know what it’s like to be an adult in a child’s body that I’m projecting?

I’ll have to ask. Later. And consider the possibilities later. Once I’m out of this kitchen-conversation. Spirits.

Something occurs to me. “Is it true that none of your benders lead peaceful lives unless they’re too old to go to war?”

The woman looks at me like I’m an idiot. That answers that, I suppose.

“What, were you a fisherman before you went with the Avatar?” one of the younger women jokes.

I shrug. “I could’ve been. As a waterbending Master it is my duty to defend my city, but beyond that I’m not obligated to do anything beyond helping the elders cross a canal.”

That shocks them all into silence. I’m not sure if it’s because I can do what I want, or if I just don’t seem the type to help someone over a canal. “But what do you do for a living, then?”, the woman sitting across from me asks.

My eyebrows climb up my forehead, “Depends. The Northern Watertribe is a community. We help each other out.”

None of them know what to do with that. To be honest, I don’t either.


	8. Dealing With Complications

“Are you implying that the Fire Nation’s tradition to send the children who are not predestined for other professions to the army lessens the communal feeling of philanthropic unity?” a cold, flat voice asks from the doorway. There stands Mai in her cool, detached fifteen-year-old glory.

If I hadn’t been well-read in my previous life, I wouldn’t have caught half of that. As it happens, I heard and understood the entirety of it after just a moment of stupefaction. “Yes. I am,” something like a frown mars her delicate features, “Though I’ll give you that there are societal and traditional restrictions imposed on those living in the Northern Watertribe’s society.”

“Such as…?”

I give her attempt at fishing a beatific smile, even though she can’t see it. That mask really is inconvenient if you want to make someone else feel stupid. Now it’s just me feeling stupid all by my lonesome. “Women are traditionally not part of the military forces.”

Though I have a feeling that with Katara’s recent successful bout of rebelliousness, others might feel it the time to change that. If not, the subject can be revisited once this entire ordeal with the Firelord wanting to destroy the entire world is over. Something has just occurred to me. If his intentions are to give the world a ‘rebirth’, why would he even bother with the conquering? I can understand taking cities like Omashu and Ba Sing Se. They are the ones with enough power and connections that they could threaten him even with the Comet. But the farming villages that are being terrorised? Unnecessary.

Mai’s mouth has gained a displeased twist to it. Evidently, she thinks that tradition is bollocks. I agree, but I wonder if she will see that or impose her views on bigoted traditionalists upon my humble self. It seems either she is doing her best at not antagonising me after that scene earlier, or she can tell when I’m testing her. I’m not certain what I’m looking for either.

Instead of waiting for her answer silently and patiently, I get up and put the bowl of soup with the other dirty dishes. This puts my back to her. “You have healed.”

I half-turn and inspect her suddenly eager stance out of the corner of my eye. Or whatever passes for eager for nobles. Although Yue was much freer in her expressions, so it might just be a thing Mai does. Her statement requires no verbal answer from me.

“I had heard,” she begins cautiously, stepping fully into the room, “That only the female waterbenders are healers.”

That is an interesting revelation into the insight the Fire Nation has into the inner workings of the Northern Watertribe. It is a crucial and useful detail for them to know, which is why it worries me slightly that they have discovered it. “There are those among us who believe that if it is possible for you to learn something, and you want to, you should.”

“Another societal restriction that you have chosen to ignore, then?” she questions.

“Another?” I raise my brows at her, turning to look at her fully.

She crosses her arms, “One does not usually remain in the enemy stronghold after hostile negotiations.”

That startles a chuckle out of me and it makes her relax slightly. “You… appear to abhor traditions,” she concludes quietly.

A slow and honest smile stretches my face underneath the mask, “When they stand in the way of philanthropy.”

I know in my heart that she would smile if she didn’t feel that it’d mean she lost something by doing so. Instead, she shifts her shoulders into something that would be a confrontational stance, if she weren’t also clasping her hands in front of her body. “Walk with me,” and with that, she sweeps from the kitchen.

This should be interesting.

She navigates the palace hallways with ease that I didn’t expect. But then again, she must have had little else but exploring to do before Azula and the Avatar arrived. She takes me to a room of which the doors are closed and no sounds escape from the inside. Her slanted eyes rove over my form and briefly halt on my hands that cradle her little brother to my chest.

She opens the door. Inside lies a prone figure covered in white bandages that stand out starkly against lightly tanned skin. Circus Girl.

Mai wants me to heal her friend. A friend I came very close to killing earlier. Very, very close. I turn my head to look at her. Her expression is closed off, but there are traces of worry and fear in her body language.

When I fail to address her obvious un-worded hopes, the corners of her mouth turn downwards.

“The healers say Ty Lee will never speak a word again,” her voice is rough and heavy with emotion as she stares at her friend, “Her ribs will take years to fully heal, and only if she does not… partake in strenuous activities. Her stomach is bruised so badly they suspect internal bleedings. I-“ she cuts herself off, re-clasps her hands and takes a deep, shuddering breath, “I would formally request you to heal her. I have little to offer in return, but I shall give what I can.”

“Well, isn’t that touching,” I drawl as my mind flits through the possibilities. I could just heal her. But I could also ask Mai to delay Azula, sabotage her hunt for the Avatar. However, Mai is fifteen and Azula is, apart from Circus Girl, her closest friend. It would put an immense burden on her shoulders. Besides, Azula is intelligent enough to realise what Mai would be doing, even if she was extremely careful about it.

I use the few seconds it takes for her to recover from her emotional… outburst and my subsequent insensitivity to move towards Circus Girl. She looks… like she’s a step away from Death’s door. I crouch beside her head. She’s asleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had given her poppy to dull the pain.

Coming to a decision I rise and turn towards Mai. “You will owe me a favour of equal value,” I say, hand outstretched. The baby in my other arm makes a gurgling noise. It goes ignored.

Mai almost seems to rush the few steps that separate us and clenches her slender fingers around mine so strongly I almost want to clench back. “Yes,” she chokes it out, undisguised relief flooding her features.

“I will leave it up to you whether you decide to inform anyone else of this little agreement,” I say and she slowly loosens her grip as she nods.

I kneel beside the half-dead-looking girl on the floor. “You can stay or you can leave. I don’t think this has to be voiced, but if you attempt to take the brat, there will be very little stopping me from undoing my work.”

She chooses to kneel on the opposite side of her friend. I set her little brother down beside me and, surprisingly enough, he remains.

After so much time spent manipulating the water in the air, it is easy to gather enough to get to work on the Circus Girl’s damaged vocal chords and whatever else I cut. It takes immense concentration to heal such delicate parts of the body, especially since I don’t want to cut off her airflow. It occurs to me that Circus Girl might not appreciate waking to the feeling of someone manipulating fluids inside her throat.

“Wake her,” I instruct Mai as I decide how best to go about it. Throat first, then her ribs. That is the easy decision to make.

Circus Girl wakes sluggishly from her near-comatose sleep. Mai uses soothing words and gentle fingers to keep her calm. Then, her eyes fall on me and widen in panic.

I do nothing but wait as Mai firmly restrains her without hurting her friend any further. “He’s here to help. He will heal you,” it does nothing to quell her panic.

The brat beside me is almost hit by a flailing leg. I decide to press it down gently while calming the flinch that almost knocks the baby on his back with a soothing hand between his tiny shoulders. Her reaction to my touch is to go unnaturally still. This would work for me, if I were trying to terrify her. But as it happens, I want to heal her. I need her throat not to close up with fear.

Some psychological aspect of it might be soothed if she can endure this without the crippling fear she feels now. Or something. (It may also make me slightly uncomfortable that when I touch her, she is too terrified to move. Uneasy is not in my nature.)

“If my face ends up plastered on notice boards all over the Fire Nation occupied territory, I will find a way to make your lives utter misery,” I say as I remove the hand I have on her leg to untie the mask covering my features. Mai has no visual reaction to the show of trust, but I can see how Circus Girl is a little less… tense now. But the little progress that is made is instantly void once I meet her terrified gaze.

With a deliberate, slow and careful motion I bend my wrist, trace it in a swirl and allow a clear ball of water to form in my palm.

“You trust your friend, don’t you?” I say and without waiting for confirmation or removing my eyes from hers, I manipulate the water into steam, then back into water, careful to retain the heat, or as much as is possible. We want it sterile, after all.

“He and I have come to an understanding,” Mai chips in, “He will heal you in return for a future favour of equal value from me.”

Something in Circus Girl’s large doe-eyes eases. The fact that that makes a knot come undone in my chest will forever go unspoken.

“This will make you uncomfortable. It will feel cool and soothing and invasive,” I say and lean forwards. “You will be able to speak afterwards, without pain, though I cannot promise that your voice will be as it was before.”

She blinks.

I take it as confirmation to begin and use the hand not manipulating the water to take hold of her chin and gently open her mouth. What I do next is bring the water close, but a twitch of her neck tells me she will panic if I continue. I move away slightly.

Again, deliberately, I meet her once again terrified gaze. “Look at your friend. Go to your happy place. I don’t care, but I would hate to have to restrain you forcefully. It will not be a pretty experience for either of us.”

She tries to swallow, fails with a pained noise that would be a moan, if her vocal chords cooperated.

Mai lays a soothing hand on her cheek. “Please, Ty Lee… _please_. I know you can do this.”

Circus Girl blinks again and looks at her friend.

I repeat my motions and this time there is no twitch.

Smoothly, the water slithers into her mouth, to the back of her throat and down. I move the hand on her chin to her neck, guiding the water to where it needs to be. Then, with higher focus than I use for learning a new trick, I begin to heal.

It is not difficult, really, only intricate and somewhat tiring.

When I am done, and remove the water slowly, trickle by bloody trickle, I feel a bead of sweat run down my temple. Ah, lovely. Maybe I’ll be able to take a shower somewhere in the city later. That would be therapeutic in many, many different ways.

With a flick of my wrist, I disperse the water and sit back on my heels.

“M-Mai,” the Circus Girl croaks, voice rough and like sandpaper.

Mai is ready to burst into tears. I’ll spare us both the embarrassment. “Get her some water,” I say quietly, aware that she doesn’t want to leave Circus Girl’s side, but knowing that she would never drink bended water from an icy cup I could make.

The girl gets up and hurries to procure some water. Which leaves me with a very apprehensive-looking Circus Girl. I say nothing as she warily inspects my face.

“You,” she whispers, “Took that fireball for me.”

A wry twist of my lips, “Could’ve been better in the end, if I hadn’t,” I touch my own throat.

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I realise that this is going to mean very little coming from me,” I begin, wondering at the same time why I even bother, but some part of me urges to, “But you are aware that Aang, Katara and Sokka only fight to defend themselves and their friends, aren’t you?”

They are not soldiers, or even really trained for this kind of thing. Aang is twelve and has too soft a heart to kill anyone. Katara might want to fight, but she hardly likes having to defend her life and those of her friends just because they are who they are on a weekly basis. Sokka is the same, even though he would like to join his father.

“And you?” she questions and my eyes flicker briefly to the brat still sitting where I put him down.

“I have killed before. I will do it again,” I say simply instead of telling her exactly who beheaded Admiral Zhao.

She swallows thickly and raises a shaking hand to touch her throat.

With a sardonic smile that says ‘yes, even pretty girls like you’ I untie the knot on the bandages around her ribcage. I don’t spare a thought for her modesty as her purple and bruised skin shiny with some kind of ointment or cream is uncovered layer by layer. This is simple. Broken ribs needed healing plenty during the aftermath of the Invasion.

Once I’ve finished, I check for other injuries and bruises. There are some on her lower back and shoulder where she must’ve landed when I tackled her. Those are taken care of as easily as breathing. Or they would be, if she were inclined to roll onto her stomach instead of covering her breasts and running a frantic hand over her now intact ribcage.

Sighing, I wait until she’s done with that.

“Roll over,” I say and the exasperation in my tone must make her look up at me.

With a snappish twist to her mouth, she does as instructed. The bruises are healed quickly and Mai returns just as I hand Circus Girl a blanket for her nakedness. There is an endless care and gentleness to her movements as she helps her friend drink water and soothes her through a coughing fit.

Silently, I re-tie the mask to my face and pick the quiet and still strangely compliant brat up. He slaps his pudgy little hands against my neck and taps my throat a few times. I have no idea what he wants to say to me.

“Wait,” Circus Girl says in her slightly less croaky voice as I turn to leave while they’re both distracted.

I have a feeling of foreboding as I turn my head to look at her.

“What about Azula?”

Well.

Does that mean she hasn’t woken from her unconscious state?

I slide curious eyes to Mai. “Wasn’t she recovering just fine earlier?”

Circus Girl casts a both apologetic and admonishing look at her friend. “She has been behaving strangely.”

“Ty Lee,” Mai hisses warningly, but she is ignored.

“When she came to visit me she was… she thinks she’s ten years old and her mother is punishing her for being mean to Zuko.”

Ah. How… unfortunate. Not. Brain damage is something… far too delicate for my rather untested organ-healing expertise. Beside my rather conflicted opinion of her, I have no knowledge of the internal workings of the brain, where the memory cache is, what could be attempted without any physical healing involved.

“The Fire Nation Princess,” I say very slowly, “Is quite an obsessive individual.”

I do believe Mai understands my meaning immediately, Circus Girl takes a moment longer.

“Please! She’s our friend! I’ll- I’ll do anything!”

“There is little to nothing that I would want from you and even less that would make me consider helping someone ready to kill a dear _friend_ of _mine_ ,” I say, but I do wonder what it is she will offer me now.

“What is it that you want, then?” Mai asks coolly.

“I would like,” I say flatly, “For this war to end without the Firelord ruling over the entire known world. Or his insane daughter. Or the Fire Nation in general.”

“In-… insane?” Circus Girl whispers.

“Sociopathic with mummy and daddy issues to fill an ocean, if you prefer,” I say and she flinches, just a little. “So tell me, what would healing Azula do for me?”

And then, a thought pops into my head. What is more precious to the Fire Nation than their princess, the one who will become Firelord once her father is no more? Certainly not a city only recently occupied, of which the King has been freed and the resistance is ready to fight.

“A pardon,” Mai says, even though I can hear that she doesn’t think it will do anything for me.

I opt to stare at her until she looks away. She takes a long half-minute during which Circus Girl shifts uncomfortably.

“You really think that?” she finally asks in her croaky voice.

I stare at her until she clarifies, “That Azula is insane?”

I could now list all the reasons why I believe Azula cannot be reasoned with like any other person aside from her father. “Yes.”

“But… you don’t know her.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, I have no desire to,” I say and it’s like a slap in the face, she flinches almost violently. While that is vaguely better than her terror earlier, I do wonder where it went. I have expected some kind of mental deficiency on her part for voluntarily spending time with Azula, but for her to forget the instinctual fear I instilled in her only minutes ago is a little much.

“But Azula is a good person!”

My eyebrows feel like they’ve climbed to my hairline.

“You seem like a sweet girl,” this, coming out of nowhere throws her even more off balance, “Do you usually go around assisting in the arrest of _children_?”

With me having implied this earlier, her reaction is rather over the top: she actually rears back with no regard for Mai behind her and the back of her head impacts the other girl’s chin with enough force to send her sprawling.

“MAI!” Circus Girl shouts and hurries to check on her friend.

The noise summons none other than Azula.

Immediately, she takes an offensive stance, ready to protect her friends with fire, if need be. But I watch her eyes flicker over my non-aggressive stance, the baby in my arms and the way I’m too far away to have done anything to Mai. She catalogues all this within an instant and decides to wait on Circus Girl’s verdict as to Mai’s condition.

With a moan, Mai sits up, cradling her chin in one hand, the back of her head in the other.

“Mai, are you okay?” Circus Girl hurries to ask, and pries away her friend’s hands to inspect the damage. That her own head appears not to hurt at all says much about her… I’ll just not go there. This is even more pathetic than egging on Katara.

“You’re bleeding! Oh, you’re bleeding!” she turns her imploring eyes on me, “Heal her! Heal her like you did me!”

With a snort, I shake my head, “Is she going to owe me another favour? Are you?”

“No. _I_ will,” Azula states.

What the fuck?

Of course, she thinks she’s ten. She thinks that I’ll actually believe her when she utters that.

I sigh, “Sure you will, princess.”

A thunderous expression takes over her face, “A favour from me could go a long way for you.”

I turn my head to look at Circus Girl, who appears to put all her hopes on Azula’s shoulders. I glance at Mai, who Is dabbing at the back of her head with some cloth that comes away bloody. I lock eyes with a very interested-looking brat in my arms.

“Right to a prison cell, yeah?” I ask in an annoyingly patronising voice that no one must have ever dared use on her before.

“If you continue to speak to me that way, then yes!”

That startles a laugh out of me. Spirits, my _life_.

She shifts into a stance that I know allows her to kick swaths of flames my way very, very rapidly. “Can we not do this again? I’ve had enough of bending for one day.”

“What? This is the first time I have met you!”

“You didn’t tell her. Of course you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell me what?” she demands, indignant.

What a _brat_ this girl is. And with everyone forced to defer to her, no wonder she thinks she can just go around hunting the Avatar, torturing her brother psychologically and taking control of armies at fifteen.

“Tell me WHAT!”

What a temper she has. Dear me, I think I Pakku got the lucky draw with Katara. Whoever managed to teach Azula anything has my respect.

While Mai shrinks away from the noise that must be hurting her head, Circus Girl looks like a deer in headlights.

What did she expect? The princess believes herself to be ten years old. She only needs to take a passing glance into a mirror to find out that that isn’t true.

“Find yourself a mirror and you’ll know, princess,” I drawl in stark contrast to her shouting and her expression goes from indignant impatience to fury.

“No, YOU find me a mirror!” she demands, and, really, I’m not one to let this golden opportunity to leave slip from my hands.

Without another word, I exit the room, close the door softly behind my back and disappear along the corridor.

Man, what a day.

First a failed hostage exchange; then I manage to plan the liberation of Omashu; there is a violent fight that manages to trigger Aang’s Avatar State; the resistance has to fend off Fire Nation troops; I go negotiate for the return of my hostage; have a political discussion with a cook; heal one of the enemies I almost killed today; argue with her and manage to escape a literally out-of-her-mind Fire Nation Princess.

.

I think it’s about time that I return to the others and see how Aang is doing. But first, this door looks interesting…

What is beyond it, is positively precious.

The archive.

I might just take a little while longer.

If I thought I had any hope at all at finding anything related to philosophy as I knew it in my first lifetime, I would search for it. As it happens, I don’t. Besides, I believe that there is little of that that would help me in my situation at all.

I remember quite a few texts about learning to hold life dear as it is, or harnessing your positive energy and conserving it through good deeds. Those… were not always helpful. As someone who views themselves as a sometimes-optimistic realist, there is little to be said for articles about the positive effect of happiness in your life.

You know it when you see it and that’s that.

As with all things, it’s not quite that simple. If things do not appear simple, they must be _made_ simple by way of understanding. To know how to solve a problem, is to understand it.

Although, to recognise when you are happy; to replicate a situation in which you experience the feeling, those are skills that must, at times, be re-learnt. Especially when you are in the process of doing something that is necessary, but not a factor that you want playing into your happiness-quota. It can be a job. It can be your general situation.

It can be the fact that you gave a fifteen-year-old a concussion so severe that she cannot remember anything beyond her tenth birthday.

Spirits, is this what I’ve come to?

Is this what killing Jhao made me into?

A jaded coward (too afraid to make use of an opportunity open for me just _there_ )?

Damn.

I’m responsible for it, but I won’t be held accountable because this is war. It’s only my own sense of morality and conscience that guides me. Not healing her could mean just as disastrous consequences as healing her and having her know that it’s me she has to thank for her continued ability to do anything. (Hunt the Avatar, vie for her father’s approval, torment Zuko, manipulate her friends…)

Then again, I might not be able to heal her. Going back and attempting it, only to fail could result in disastrous consequences. Perhaps even deadly consequences.

But it just doesn’t sit quite right with me to leave Azula as a ten-year-old. As far as she’s concerned, she still has her mother. Her cousin is still alive and her father is second in line to inherit the throne. It could be funny to watch her struggle and flounder, bluster her way clumsily through situations she cannot properly assess. But all of her failures, all her frustration and hate would turn to me, since, after all, I was the one to give her that concussion.

I would do well to remember that even as a villain, and someone with major psychological issues, she’s just as young as her friends. Where I have an additional lifetime to look back on, to draw strength from, they’re in the middle of puberty.

With a few choice curse-words, I decide to go for any recent records, pocket them and set about finding a bleeding mirror. Not, that I’m a fan of blood or anything.

But it would be fun to see if there was something like it. Or perhaps a bled-on mirror? Though those could be a little disturbing to think about more than the bleeding mirrors…

In the end, it comes down to which choices I won’t hate myself for.

.

The mirror I find is disappointingly clean.

I return to the room I left them in to find two additional people inside. Healers, it seems, from the way they are fussing over Mai and stealing furtive glances at Azula.

My silent entrance goes unnoticed.

“I will be fine,” Mai says, pushing the hands reaching for her head away.

“I’m so sorry, Mai,” Circus Girl has tears in her eyes.

As I move to the wall beside me and lean against it, the baby on my arm smacks his lips together loudly, the sound disproportionately loud directly by my ear. Immediately, five heads swivel in my direction. Azula scrambles to her feet, if that can even be called scrambling. It’s more of a less graceful way to stand.

“Your mirror,” I toss it over, and she catches it shakily with a glare that I’m not too sceptical about it setting me on fire.

A glance into it and already she’s looking back at me. Then her eyes snap back to her reflection and widen comically. “What…” she whispers, staring at her own face with astonishment.

Circus Girl is beside her in a moment, hovering worriedly as Azula takes in her appearance.

“Why do I look like her?” her voice is cold, but brittle around the edges. I’m reminded of the time she went truly mad.

“She’s your mo-“

“Yes,” she cuts her friend off sharply, takes a deep breath, “How did this happen?”

Circus Girl’s eyes dart to me, looking apprehensive. She’s worried that if she tells her princess that I’m the one she has to thank for this, I won’t agree to heal her.

But the small movement is enough for Azula to round on me. With a shaking hand, she points at me accusingly, “You! You did this! Fix it! FIX IT!”

When I give no outward sign of having heard her, she stomps towards me, dropping the mirror in the process. It shatters to pieces by her feet, and she doesn’t appear to care.

“You can heal! Fix this! Fix-“

“Fix you?” I mock and she falters mid-stride. Self-esteem issues become apparent. How very good insight I have. “There is hardly any point. To me, you are acting just as you would at fifteen. You’re more of a spoilt brat than this one,” I poke the baby’s nose. He giggles cutely.

“Spoilt-“ she flounders. She was trapped, groomed to be the perfect puppet form the time of her birth. The only question is, can she break free?

I turn to look at her friends, take a few steps towards them, rounding Azula. “Poor, poor princess. Did your mother never teach you to be kind?”

A screech of anger and I can feel the heat of flames through my shirt as I slap her fist away easily. Too easily. Does she want to be subdued, stopped? Does she test me? Perhaps, in the most unlikely of ways, she has mastered the third Jin.

“Is it perhaps,” I say and inspect the limp appendage at her side, “That you think you deserve to be loved?”

A wounded noise from Circus Girl. Wow. I am such an arsehole.

“I’ll heal you,” I tell her.

“But?” Azula asks.

“When the time comes that you understand my motivations, I will find you,” I declare softly.

“When will you heal me?”

“Once I’ve determined that everyone dear to me is out of your reach.”

It’s a harsh thing to say. But with the way Azula averts her eyes, it needed to be said. She is aware of her own cruelty. She must be aware of how much better she is at manipulation at fifteen. She knows that I do not trust her.

I take a knee beside Mai and reach out with gentle fingers to free her from the bandages. She lets me without protest.

I heal her with care, then I stand. “I’ll return with your brother as promised. I will take care of the princess after that.”

She nods and the other two watch as I leave the room.

This got complicated fast.


	9. Existential Crises

The way back is a little trickier than getting inside the city. But I haven’t escaped enraged orderlies throughout the first ten years of my life for nothing.

There is a brief contemplation of walking out the front door, but that’s just asking for trouble that I can’t afford. So, I leave via balcony and make my way down to the city over the rooftops. I resist the temptation of the chutes by way of reminding myself that I can always play later, once the city is back under Bumi’s command. I really am getting tired of acting responsibly. There is just no fun to be had.

But that’s not entirely true.

On my way over the walls, hidden between one of the larger factory buildings and a watchtower, I get to see someone who looks rather important escorted into the city. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him until one of his escorts whose voice carries calls him ‘Warden’.

He’s the crazy prison warden of the Boiling Rock.

I can’t decide if today is my lucky day or not.

This just got a lot more complicated. But also, I _know_ he’s the kind to deserve a little bullying. And, by all that is wholesome and good in this world, what better way to browbeat a warden than to abduct him? It will be an ode to canon, only without resembling it at all. There certainly won’t be any of the dignity it had.

It’s kind of pathetic that I’m able to take out half of his escort as easily as I do and the other half is too busy gaping at me in shock to put up much of a fight after that.

The warden though, is not one to go down without a fight. The Kiyoshi girl must be one heck of a fighter to have captured him as quickly as she did. Instead of engaging in a bending duel that, as he surely knows, I would have won, baby or not, he attempts to keep me away from him for as long as it takes for help to arrive. He’s good. Very good.

I’m rather proud to say that I’m better.

Not by much, though. And he makes me work for getting him tied up. Spirits, can’t he just stop struggling? Man, what is wrong with this man?

It’s not like I’m going to kill him.

Probably…

I should definitely review my recent behaviour.

Later, though. (Worrying. Wilfully prioritising taking someone hostage over my own mental state might not be something I want to be doing.)

Almost getting my thumb bitten off _does_ take precedence, though.

.

As I drag the man, who is heavier than he looks, back to camp, I see signs of fighting all over. Deep turfs where earthbenders must have been bending something fierce, bushes burnt to black charcoal and in some places, blood. I do hope I managed to negotiate in time. (I hope Mai didn’t deliberately take her time in sending the orders.)

Even as I look around cautiously, a slide of wall opens to my left. O-Ting waves me in. “Glad you’re here. Why’ve you still got the baby?”

Why indeed. The special snowflake is asleep again. “I’ll give him back once you’re out of the canyons. But look, I found something almost even better.”

“Almost?” he questions even as he helps me pull the blindfolded and still struggling man into the tunnel.

“Another member of the governing family.”

I can almost feel the judgement as a tangible prod in the side of my head. “Are we starting a collection?”

It startles a laugh out of me. It shouldn’t be all that funny, since it was the resistance that attempted to assassinate the governing family, and O-Ting might have had a direct hand in it. However, I’m not about to point fingers at what could well be albeit murky mirrors. I may be many things, but I try not to be a hypocrite if I can help it.

Not, that I can help it most days.

We tie up the warden with his back to the fireplaces that come into view around the bend of the tunnel. It vaguely reminds me of Plato’s Cave Parable the way he can only see our shadows even if he turns his head.

I remove my mask.

The others are gathered around another campfire, this one far smaller than the one from last night. The shadows the light casts make them all look like recovering drug-addicts with hollowed-out cheeks and bleak looks in their eyes.

Especially Aang.

Spirits, he went into the Avatar State earlier and was probably unconscious for most of the fighting just now. Has he talked to Katara about this yet? Bumi?

À propos madman. He’s a short distance away debating with the general over something that looks like a miniature three-dimensional model of Omashu and the surrounding canyons. How very neat. O-Ting follows me over.

“-isn’t a feasible option! Not after this! The Avatar may have convinced us once, but some of us died here! The Fire Nation will hunt us, force us to scatter if we back off now!” the General whispers heatedly at his King.

King Bumi looks, for all anyone could tell, as though he is in a serene environment, with lots of trees and gently rustling leaves accompanied by the occasional trill of a bird. “Hmm,” is all he says in answer to the enraged man’s rant. I don’t remember him being so dismissive. Of course, he overruled any attempts at fighting the Fire Nation when they invaded; he proceeded to put his own, shall we say spiritual development, above the task of teaching the _Avatar_ earthbending (and here I disregard my own scepticism as to whether Aang should have to be the one to resolve this conflict at all); he took the city back all on his own without any need to coordinate forces.

All in all, he appears to have the mentality of someone with power, who has never not had power, and doesn’t seem to understand the dangers that come with dismissing angry individuals.

Not ideal. The fact that Bumi doesn’t think he’ll be taken elsewhere and everyone will wait for his moment is worrying. I’ve taken canon as a set of rules once too often and lost two friends for it. I figure I can at least get Bumi to come with his people and use his moment when they come back. Or something.

“’Scuse me, Sire, General,” I butt in casually – or not so casually, taking the staring all around into account. “You’ve free passage out of the canyons for the return of the governor’s son. You’ve also got the prison warden of the Boiling Rock tied to a boulder back there. I suggest you do something with him that involves gathering information. The palace itself appears to be very loosely guarded, they’re more concerned with the front entrance and searching for any other entry-points into the city that you might’ve left behind upon your exit. I imagine they’ll start blasting their way into your tunnel-system soon enough. It appears, if you want to have any chance at all at retaking Omashu, it has to be before they destroy your biggest advantage.”

I say all this in a low voice that doesn’t carry, but some of the ones standing closer with good hearing will be spreading my words like wildfires. Bumi finally looks more like he’s mentally present.

“It appears we no longer have time to wait for the perfect moment to strike,” he croaks and turns towards the openly staring men all around, “Who knows the ancient tunnels that connect the hot springs to the city?”

Silence. Only the cracking of twigs in the fires and occasional whispers can be heard.

“Those have always been a royal secret, your highness,” the general supplies, trying not to let his irritation bleed into his tone.

“Ohahhaha!” Bumi finds this exceptionally funny and adds a few snorts for emphasis. “Well then, we’ll have to rely on me to lead the way.”

It isn’t reassuring that my first thought upon hearing that is to make Sokka draw another map, like he did earlier in the Lover’s Cave. I should hope King Bumi wouldn’t screw his people over by leading them to dubious temporary safety. But, I can’t forget, when it came to a direct confrontation with his friend on the line, Bumi fought.

Looking at him more closely, I can’t detect any malice, or stubbornness, but you never know with mad people. Taking that into account, I don’t think I’ll be of much more help here and head over to Aang for a quick chat.

He looks like someone who has looked into the abyss and is seriously contemplating the consequences of a jump. That makes me reluctantly glad for his misplaced feelings of responsibility towards the world and his gigantic crush on Katara to keep him from seeking out the spirit world in a permanent sense.

The girl in question sits opposite him, her brother’s arm around her shoulders. Her face is hidden by her hair. Sokka himself is staring at me like I’m a particularly tricky math problem and even if he felt he could solve it, he’s not sure he wants the reward for that. In the end, none of them do. What I have to offer is far worse than ignorance.

I settle down next to Aang, closer than I usually would. His eyes flicker up from the fire, to the huddled figures of the siblings opposite us, to me, then back to the flames. He looks pained and vulnerable. I don’t think he feels entitled to any comfort I might offer with some prompting.

And usually, I would need lots of that before I did anything remotely nice for everyone to see. But the siblings across the fire don’t know how to include Aang into their embrace, much less talk to him any more than I do, which obviously leaves me to do the job. Although Aang is not a job or even a chore. Never that.

Carefully, I lay an arm across his shoulders and draw him close. He slumps and buries his face in the crook of his arms that he gathers around his drawn-up knees. The baby coos gently and lightly smacks the back of his neck. Comfortingly sticky, I’m sure.

We sit like that for as long as it takes for Aang to finally turn his head and look at me from the corner of his eyes. “She asked me what I was doing for a hundred years,” Aang’s whisper is muffled by the fabric of his tunic, “Said that no-one needs an Avatar who can’t save the people who need him and that’s when Katara-“

He squeezes his eyes shut and I squeeze his shoulder in response, “You are far from useless, Aang. But it shouldn’t be your responsibility to save anyone in the first place.”

He stiffens, “What-“

“Just remember that you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“But Katara-“

“Is fine. We all got away.”

“I guess.”

“You know.”

He makes a face, “Fine.”

“Aang,” I say more softly, “You’re not alone.”

He looks up and oh Spirits, his face… so _heartbroken_.

I tuck his face into the crook of my neck and let him cling as I carefully set down the baby. I’ll trust Sokka and Katara not to let him near the flames.

I wish I hadn’t agreed with him to come to Omashu for Bumi now. This was a mess all around, no clean surface left. There is some cleaning up to do, but Aang is far more important at the moment. What he needs is some rest and constant reassurance that he is good, he is not at fault and that some people are just arseholes. He will get none of those things here. Maybe it’s time for them to move on.

I meet Sokka’s eyes over the campfire and what he sees makes his shoulders drop. They are all so tense, too young for this by far.

There will be protests, of course. But it’s time they got a bit of a break and gained a new friend. It will be odd, no longer looking after them. Some time without a relative adult might do them some good, too.

After some time, I ask, “Where is Appa – and Momo?”

“Somewhere behind those boulders. Aang managed to get him to sleep. He’s pretty worn out,” Sokka answers and he sounds so tired himself, I’m amazed he didn’t take a nap on one of Appa’s soft and fluffy appendages.

“That’s good. He’ll need to be well-rested to take you out of the canyons,” I know, a more delicate phrasing could do wonders for their cooperation, but I’m rather tired myself and diplomacy I have had enough of for the month.

“What do you mean? I thought we were going to retake Omashu.”

“We are,” I nod, and soothe a hand down Aang’s stiffening back, “You three, on the other hand, are moving on South to find Aang an earthbending teacher.”

“But – what – no!” Aang busts out, leaning backwards to protest more effectively. He looks hurt.

I stop the grimace from appearing on my face. “Bumi won’t have the time. And his quest after that third Jin of his still stands.”

Before Aang has a chance to address that, Katara speaks, “What about you?” she asks the question softly, like she’s afraid of the answer. And she isn’t wrong to be. They will be more vulnerable without me as part of their troupe. She will also be more or less the only one caring for provisions for a while. But she grows with responsibility. They all do.

“I will help liberate the city. Retaking Omashu could buy both Ba Sing Se, as well as all other surrounding towns and villages some more time to build up fortifications or get to relative safety of the city walls. I’m needed here just a bit longer.”

“But… we need you, too,” Aang says and his age is really working against me here. The fondness I’ve developed for him doesn’t help either. I grimace before smiling painfully.

“No, not anymore. You know how to handle yourselves now. Staying with you as I am now won’t help anyone. And-“ I make sure to have my face cast in shadows as I continue, “There is someone I need to find in Ba Sing Se.”

“Then we’ll go with you,” Aang says determinedly.

I shake my head no. “Ba Sing Se is full of Dai Li agents. The city isn’t the place for you three yet. Not without learning to earthbend before you get there. I, on my own can make myself invisible. But as a group we’d be watched closely enough to significantly raise the risks,” it’s all true, but saying it still feels somehow painful.

“Dai Li agents? Just who do you need to find that you need to watch out for them?” Sokka questions, equally suspicious and upset.

“I intend to make contact with former General Iroh of the Fire Nation. He knows his little brother best, and he might give me access to his knowledge.”

“But… why do you need to know more about the Firelord?” Katara questions.

Aang’s eyes flicker from my face to the ground. “For me, isn’t it? It’s for me.”

There is a look of sudden comprehension on Katara’s face, after hearing that. “You said that Aang might not have to be the one to deal with the Firelord, yesterday. You meant… what, how would you stop him?”

“That’s something I’d like to hear myself,” O-Ting suddenly says from beside me, where he is scrunching up his cloak as a makeshift pillow to sit on.

I take a deep breath as I consider my answer. All of them are sensitive to the topic, and I could lose any of the trust I gained with Katara, Aang and Sokka, while O-Ting could very well decide he didn’t like my methods. “There are… ways of dealing with even Firelords,” and I am quick enough to continue before the implications of that sink in properly, “But those are…”

“Abhorrent? Disgusting? Corrupted? Evil?” Katara suggests.

“Unlikely to be successful in the first place. There must have been attempts before. No, what I want to know about Firelord Ozai in order to end the war, is where his worst enemies are hiding. I’ll go from there to forging a plan,” I explain, pointedly ignoring her struggle to find words for how horrible a person I am.

“It’s not bad, as far as plans go,” O-Ting offers quietly, giving me perhaps another minute of respite before Sokka begins to argue.

“The reason you are going to go on without me for a while is that this city can be taken back without the exhausted Avatar and company. You all need rest and time to recover.”

“But _you’re_ injured worse than any of us.”

“True, but already I’m fine again.”

“We are, too! And you can’t just decide for us what we need or what we do!”

“Come on, Katara! Don’t pretend like this doesn’t feel like a nightmare to you!” I whisper-yell, “Look at you! Drawn, pale, exhausted. You’re almost ready to go home, if you weren’t so stubborn!” it’s more forceful than I intended to be. But the others are looking at her now, how withdrawn she looks, even with fire in her eyes. I take another deep breath, “As for why I can’t wait for much longer to find Iroh, the Comet is approaching come the end of summer. That’s only so many months for us to do anything at all.”

Sharp looks from O-Ting, Katara and Sokka prompt me to explain. Aang already knows, after all. “Sozin’s Comet marked the beginning of the war. That was almost exactly one hundred years ago. It returns every hundred years. The comet gives firebenders tremendous power and the Firelord intends to make use of it. How do you all not know this?”

“How do you?”

“I learned about that comet, and the beginning of the war from my parents, and Arnook would talk about it sometimes when he was smashed. This is unbelievable. No one told you about this?” it actually is. I did learn about comets and their travels through space when I was young from my mother, and this particular comet allowed for the annihilation of the airbenders, so when there was an inkling in the back of my mind that it would return, I read up on it, asked the right people questions. Although I don’t understand why no one ever told Aang about that Comet before. Has he even gotten a history-crash-course for the time he was asleep?

“No. Why didn’t _you_ tell us earlier?” Katara asks.

“I thought you knew the need was dire. I thought that was why you left the North Pole before your training was complete. Another year under Pakku and you would be one of the most formidable waterbenders around. Aang as well. You’re both very talented. And you’re well on your way to getting that fixed, but Spirits, weren’t you worried about how everyone is rushing this along? General Fong was getting nervous because it’s only a few months more until we can be sure only every single bender against the Fire Nation could have a fighting chance. I need us all to have more than just a fighting chance. Aang’s part is mastering the elements and communicating with the Spiritworld for guidance. Mine is finding out who can stop the Firelord, so it doesn’t have to be Aang. You’re a child, Aang. You shouldn’t be expected to save the world.”

And in answer to that, I hear the person I least expected to say anything speak from behind me: “Interesting. Just who are you, waterbender Kaito?”

“A friend to the Avatar, a friend to the people and a man with bloodied hands.”

Okay, so that was a bit dramatic.

Well, at least, Sokka’s laughing, and Aang is trying to hide a smile.

“I’ll be doing my best to lay strategies to end the war while I’m not with you. You’re not doing this alone, if at all,” I whisper to Aang and stroke his back.

.

Saying good-bye is hard. Harder than I thought it would be.

As are the hugs Aang gives me. He’s surprisingly strong for a young grasshopper. Sokka and I embrace in a very manly way that has him hiding a stray tear in my collar. It will never be mentioned that I am forced to will my own away. Katara… I give her a genuine smile, raise my brows and open my arms in invitation. She rolls her eyes forcefully, but does give me a hug. A very short one, but it is a hug.

I don’t think she would give me one if she knew what I’ll be spending my time with for the next few weeks. She doesn’t though, and she never will, if I have anything to say about it.

I am hovering between the greyscales of a morally grey area. It is nothing she can understand. Nothing she ever will understand, I should hope. There is precious little about my life that I would wish on her and all that I would, she already has in some form or another.

They are gone just in time for me to finish listening in on strategy discussions between Bumi, the Commander and his Lieutenants. The baby has nodded off in my arms.

Mostly, the plan is to spread out all over the city, lure the Fire Nation into the tunnels, defeat them when possible, collapse the tunnels where it isn’t. While that’s taking place, fifty or so men will take the palace, give the non-military Fire Nation citizens opportunity to escape and re-seat Bumi on his throne.

Easy-peasy.

I just wonder… how far are all of us here willing to go? These men and women are fighting for their homes. I’m hoping to lend a hand in defeating a totalitarian monarchy with reprobate leaders. And… what else?

To think it comes down to _purpose_.

I’m disgusted by myself, to have subjected myself to this. To have decided that being governed by the desires of whatever put me here is preferable to allowing plots to play out. Because even that is better than thinking of myself, my existence here, as a mistake. A glitch.

Funny how I understand the need people have to believe in Gods or some such concept that allows for, approves of, our values and ways of thinking better now than I did when I grew up in a semi-Christian household.

 _Just who are you?_ Me, who else? But. Who else?

Clearly, I am not restricted by my physical manifestation. My memories have travelled with me. I can recall the time I almost hit a deer perfectly. The day I went hiking in the highlands, ever worried it was going to piss down cats and dogs, finally reaching the peak and standing _above_ the clouds is still a measuring pole for any experience that comes after. Equally, I can remember the day I found out I am a bender in vivid detail.

So, in a sense, my self is separate from my body, a way of interacting with the world around me. It is something that gives me access to experience.

But how much of this world, and how much of my old one overlap? How was I, as an entity with a free will, no clue of my purpose if I have been assigned one, able to travel to another body? Do all of us? If not, what was the criteria?

Purpose.

Well, rather that than an accident. But then, how much of my death was premeditated? Car accidents happen, of course, but it isn’t hard to cause one, I imagine, for a being that can pluck a soul, or whatever else I want to call it, spirit, perhaps, from one world and into the next.

That is, if it takes any effort at all. Which it might not. Only because _I_ find it something that shouldn’t be too easy, doesn’t mean it has to be. Fire in the basement and all that.

The thing is, if it is a Spirit as they are understood here, I might be able to communicate with them, and just ask.

As one does.

Because, convenience.

And, why not?

So, because I’m an idiot and didn’t think of this in the almost eighteen years of my time in this world, I will have to either return to the North Pole and try to access the Spirit World somehow through Tui and La (which seems a more likely option than any other spiritual dwelling) or I have to talk to Aang about this and ask if he can mediate (which I will only do once all that saving the world business is done and over with) or I have to find someone who can communicate or can teach me how to communicate, preferably without ingesting any kind of dubious substances.

Don’t get me wrong, I like to indulge, but purely for recreational purposes.

Anything worth doing is worth doing sober. Not, that you have to.

Now, such an individual might well be the madman looking at me curiously from across the tiny model of Omashu and the map of underground tunnels that lead to the city bended from the ground.

And, if I want to have him treat me seriously, I figure I should afford him the same courtesy.

So, here goes.

“In how much of a hurry are you?” I ask him and it’s as much for finding out how in touch he is with social cues as well as how much he prioritises taking back his city – and not to be pessimistic or anything, but either of us could die soon in which case I would never get to have this conversation at all. Or, in my case, it would become irrelevant, probably. But I really don’t want my thoughts to go off in that direction, since I’m not too keen on deliberating how likely it is that I’ll land in another cartoon-universe or really, you know, _end._

“Some, but not too much,” helpful, that. “And then, not at all. There is an order to things. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Good to know,” I murmur, and wonder what he thinks of me. It occurs to me to ask. Then, if I ask after having asked all my other questions, I might have a sort of accurate before-after picture – courtesy of Bumi. On second thought…

He chuckles, an off-key sound with hitches in his breath that is by itself rather unappealing and surprisingly similar to the way my first-ever girlfriend laughed. “Yes, I imagine it is.”

Okay then. Careful phrasing or I’ll be here forever. “What do you know of the Spirit World?”

“Oh, that place,” he says it half disgusted, half admiring. “Very strange.”

“Good strange or bad strange?” ah, damn it, time-efficiency, think of how much sooner you can get rid of the brat.

“Why, both, of course!”

Of course. A place like the Spirit World wouldn’t be one that doesn’t have more than one facet. Why would it? Nothing but a facet itself only has one facet. (If even that.)

“Have you been there yourself?” good, clear, efficient this time.

“No! Only the Avatar can go there!” he laughs.

Ah. Well, at least now I have one more account of that theory. “So, who do you know whether it’s strange or not?”

“All the Spirits are strange, so,” he takes a deep, needlessly suspensive breath, “Why wouldn’t their world be?”

Quite logical, that. Also, entirely un-

“Have you interacted with any?”

“Of course!” so many ‘of course’s. I’m almost surprised he still manages to open his eyes this widely without them hurting. Or maybe he doesn’t notice it anymore. It’s possible.

“Where, when and how?”

He laughs, probably at my attentive expression. I refuse to wipe it off in the face of that laugh.

“Why, many places, when I was young, younger and just a week ago! They come to me to talk, these Spirits!”

‘Just a week ago’ is oddly specific in that string of vagueness. Either he wants me to ask after it, or he recalls it best. Part of me wants to ask after the first, or if that instance was the last, but I think I’ll get further with _why_ they come to talk to him. “Do they come to enjoy conversation with you?”

He snorts out a handful of those awful laughs, “No! Ahahahah,” a few grunts are mixed in for variation, I think.

“Do they not enjoy it? Or do they talk to you without having a conversation with you?”

“Both!”

Right. I see why he frustrates everyone when you’re not with him to play.

“So, why do they come if they don’t enjoy not having conversations with you?”

“I’m the only one who sees them,” he chuckles. So, madman or not.

“Is there any way you could teach me to see them, too?”

At that, he pauses. And eyes me creepily. I think, after getting weird looks from this man, I can take them from anyone. Really, he has a gift.

I am so uncomfortable.

And I am watching myself feel uncomfortable.

Which is slightly odd. But it doesn’t go as far as being uncomfortable itself.

With myself suitably distracted, he manages to press our noses together in order to look deeply into my eyes from a very, very small distance. If we both made really strange kissy-faces with our mouths, we would have a very weird lip-barely-touching session. Which is a very strange thought to have. But better than finding out exactly which shade of icy blue his eyes are. (Pale-pale turquoise.)

In the background, I can hear someone whisper: “How is he keeping a straight face?”

And another voice answers: “Waterbenders, man. They can do anything with straight faces.”

A pause. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Like,” they’re probably gesturing.

“Yes.”

“And-“

“Yup.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, they can! Try it!”

“Okay, now I know you’re full of shit.”

“Fine, _I’ll_ try it,” this is beginning to sound very ominous for me.

“You do that.”

“ _If_ you lend me your,” and here the voice lowers so much that I can’t understand them anymore.

With how long Bumi’s been pressing his nose to mine, I wish they’d speak up.


	10. Rational Thinking: Discarded

He speaks in such low tones that were he an inch further away, I would hardly have caught a word that came out of his mouth. As it is, a louder volume would have been out of place and I would have thought he wouldn’t lower his voice at all, if that were his only objective. After all, he seems intent on making this as weird as possible, while I try to figure out whether I should finally let this bother me or not.

It could be his way of determining the level of weirdness that I will accept from him before I run away. Or something. But maybe it goes further than that. I’m just not sure that I want to find out where exactly.

“Where is the end?”, right. It’s _that_ kind of simple, is it?

Um… The end is only the ending of something. So long as whatever was ceases to exist, that is. Otherwise, ‘end’ is another word for ‘change’. In which case, we move into the territory of infinite possibility. Which is to say, no end. Ever. (I certainly hope if it is so, I will forget all about it.)

“Anything is possible. That’s what possibility is. The question should be whether it is likely enough, probable enough to be relevant”, now, that we have been in this position for almost five minutes it almost feels normal and I imagine I might feel the lack of pressure against my nose once he moves away. I’m not sure I like the thought. (When I have thoughts I don’t like I usually see how quickly I might be able to see the bottom of a bottle.)

“What is relevance?”, is he bouncing thoughts off of me for a paper?

“It’s… Well, I figure that mostly my thoughts should be of use to me, when I do have them. To me, my thoughts aren’t being thought for their own sake. And, most of the time, I manage just fine. But when it comes to thoughts about something bordering on absolute abstraction, concepts that I can’t grasp without even miniscule understanding of them, my only way to understanding is through relevance to myself. As in, I need a point of reference, which is me. Therefore, relevance is what I can reasonably connect to myself and harness into usage.”

Abruptly, Bumi removes his nose from mine. He cackles. “They’ll visit you on your own! Ha!”

I don’t see how that’s as funny as he thinks it is, but then I’ll still have the problem of not being able to see them, won’t I? “Will they make themselves known to me? Will I be able to speak with them? Will they answer?”

His only answer is to propel himself from the ground with some bending and leave me sitting there, by the miniature model of Omashu and its tunnel system.

And, dear _Whatever being put me here_ , do I feel like I’ve been let down.

I take a deep breath, fill the entirety of my lungs and sigh.

It’s only a disappointment if I don’t take something from this.

So, in short, it’s not within my own power to communicate with Spirits of this world, or their world, which might be somehow connected to my own, be it because someone _grasped an idea_ and made it into a cartoon show that I now undoubtedly ruined. Possibility. Well, I won’t regret the changes I made. I do regret…

Hahn. Yue. Even Hiraku.

I can blame myself for them. And I do, in some parts. But it just isn’t practical to wonder about ‘what if’s. And why should I? As far as I know, which in its entirety isn’t all that much, time travel isn’t a thing I can achieve on my own. And whatever _can_ time travel or send other things or people or spirits through time, I probably won’t meet. I won’t discard the possibility, but really, thinking about it, even if it is possible, I don’t think I would stand more of this… _loneliness_.

I am alone in this world, so long as I don’t meet anyone who shares my experience.

That’s what life’s about: the sharing of experiences.

And I have no one to share mine with because no one could ever understand.

Understanding and feeling understood is an integral part of sharing. It’s why I will always feel set apart from the other humans in this world. Because in a substantial way, I am separate. By choice or not, I am not one of them. I never will be.

I’m certain Katara senses some of this, and refuses to attach herself to someone who might as well drift away, if it meant answers. I am not a secure entity and what she seeks is, in essence, safety. She has it in her brother, in Aang and she will have the same in Toph. They will be bound together, so long as they allow it.

Bonds are something precious.

Yes, they can restrict, restrain, chain, cage, but in reality, we need them. They ground us, but there is nothing keeping me on the ground.

It’s why I am capable of what I am capable of. It’s what Katara wanted me to teach her, but it’s nothing that can be taught. You’re either entirely free, unbound and lonely, or you’re not. And when you’re not, you are free to explore other avenues. I did that, in my first life.

I loved and was loved. I hurt and was hurt in turn. I mended and was mended.

This is perhaps why I bend as well as I do. Water is not restricted by anything. Certainly, there are obstacles, but with enough time they are ground into nothing and carried along. Which is why time is so important as a constant. If it were fluid, as water is, nothing would (be) matter (to us).

Are Spirits matter? They can certainly choose to be, as they have done in the case of Tui and La, Moon and Ocean. Cause and Effect. Matters of Fact.

My facts are that I was killed either by accident or not in my old world that had a cartoon series Avatar the Last Airbender that I watched and knew well enough to remember it when I was born into this new world which has something called a Spirit World that at least one person can communicate with. And, if Bumi is to be believed, Spirits will sometimes visit this plane and have not-conversations with him that they don’t enjoy. But, if only he can see them, and he says that they will visit me of their own accord, he must believe that I am capable of seeing them, too. It appears to be a skill.

Whether it is learned or not, I have no idea.

So, until either I find another spiritual dwelling, a Spirit comes by for a visit, or Aang is free to learn about the Spirit World and I can ask him for help, I will have to wait.

I dislike it that this isn’t up to me. That it’s not within my power. But, as of now, I have no way of changing that.

I could see about getting into that big library Aang and his friends will either destroy or not destroy in a few months. But, and I would try to be humble here, but it would be a futile effort, or too much of one to bother with, I don’t think anyone would have put any useful thoughts on this to paper.

And, if they did, there is no guarantee that I would find it. There is no guarantee that I would be able to read it.

So, and I wonder how many possibilities I am killing from here on out, I won’t visit that desert library.

But putting thoughts to paper… it’s a compelling idea.

To document. I do wonder, however, how much of this desire is conditioned into me through my own society. Social media was… instant, and seemingly real. Non-virtual because the people who were using it were non-virtual. We were real and always there.

But I remember the freedom that came with switching off my phone.

I remember the power I suddenly had over my own desires. I wasn’t influenced _constantly_ by what might as well have been some unfeeling machine equipped with just the right phrases for responses. I was no longer constantly monitored, analysed and offered products that I might like to buy.

The desire to put down my experiences, hold them fast on something less flimsy than a stream of memory that only I can access. (Hopefully, they are _mine_. I’ve become a little possessive.)

But there is danger in it, too. Anyone could take this seeming security in writing down my thoughts from me. Stolen or destroyed, I would lose this…

Is it a risk I want to take?

Perhaps, when I have more time. When there aren’t invasions going on all over the place, when the war is over.

It’s a good thing that Team Avatar has already left. If I’m quick enough, I can catch up with the others in no time. I decide that I’ll have to see if I can’t find the wellspring of hot water beneath the city on my own, since even with the model right in front of me, I don’t trust my memory enough to keep these details, these twists and turns accurately.

I might get lost in thought, and then in a maze.

So, I stretch my senses. Earth is only a block to me, unfortunately lifeless to me. Certainly, I know of its slow, slow movements, its power, but I cannot connect with it. Water, however, is always eager to communicate with a waterbender. It welcomes, beckons and I am barely aware of how I get to my feet and follow its call.

So far, I have managed not to think about it, but all this time spent underground, without sunlight, without fresh air that carries the smell of sea with it, has made me desperate for water, be it open or not.

.

I’ve not been journeying through the tunnels for very long when I begin to catch up to some of the stragglers who are dragging an unconscious Prison Warden with them. Well, we can’t very well leave him behind in a place where he could find a way to allow the Fire Nation entry into the tunnels. They aren’t being closed off as of yet, in case of an escape.

Cautiously, I pull my mask back over my face. He could only be pretending. But they are lagging behind with the weight of him. Why they don’t have a bender with them, I have no idea. And, they are all injured. Miniscule, but enough for them to be more of a burden than a help, except for tasks such as this one. Even though I should reserve my strength, after the day I’ve had, I decide to freeze the places of his body where he comes in contact with the ground. “There you go”, I say, as they stumble with the sudden lack of drag.

“Thanks”, one says, and his high-pitched voice makes me do a double-take. A woman, barely recognisable under that uniform. Pretty, too.

If we weren’t about to invade a city, I’d suggest a bath in the hot springs.

I wonder whether I should bother with erasing the signs of our passing, but it would probably take too long. I would have to be thorough, and I don’t have the energy for that, I think.

What I could do is bolster the entire floor with ice and make it a slippery slope, ever deeper underground. Or a slide! Oh, there is fun to be had here, and I intend to have it. The part of me that always cautions is thankfully silent, just this once.

With a mad grin, I form a sledge for the Warden and the one with the limp, shove them on it, and make skates for everyone else.

“What in-“, they all begin to shout and curse, grabbing each other’s arms for support, and it’s all terribly amusing.

“Get ready, this will be fun!”, I shout and concentrate on coating the ground beneath and ahead of us evenly with ice.

And, off we are.

There is much terrified screaming, but soon enough, once they all realise that I’m fairly good at what I do, they clench their jaws and hold on tightly to each other. Really, they’re quite graceless, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect much from Earthkingdom soldiers in that department.

Even at the speeds we are going, it takes longer to find any signs of someone else’s passing, and it doesn’t appear to be resistance fighters. Not when the specialised wires running through the caves are the kind that easily transfer heat. And by ‘easily’ I mean to say, if even the tiniest spark travels along it, it will ignite like an irritated firebending hornet’s nest and burn everything in reach. It’s not an explosion, but certainly enough to roast anyone in the tunnels until they’re far beyond medium-rare.

The Fire Nation has already discovered our trump card and they’re prepared to use it against us to deal a devastating blow. I suspect that the only reason they haven’t yet, because they must know that we might take this gamble, is because of the hostages. As soon as they know them to be relatively safe, they will kill anyone in the tunnel system.

Instead of taking chances and letting them think they still have the upper hand, I do the sensible thing and cut the wire to begin rolling it up and carry it with me as we follow it’s path. One of the injured fighters rolls it up as I slow our pace and guide us, since I’ve still got the brat to carry.

It turns out, the wire is set to be ignited from within the palace through a slightly less potent wire. Probably so that they don’t set the palace on fire. There is now the question of whether to leave the warden with the injured guards or to smuggle them all inside, however I might accomplish that.

But, when I think about it logically, here, or the palace, it hardly matters where we leave him, he will be found eventually.

So, we tie him up properly, cut the wire again and wind some of it around his neck. If they do trigger it, he’ll be the first to know. We leave him behind. I don’t think they could hold any trained Fire Nation soldiers off for very long, so it would be pointless to have them stand guard.

And, I wouldn’t wish guard duty on my worst enemy.

Guards always seem to be the butt of every joke, the first to be made to look incompetent, and in some cases, the first to die. They are, if anything, to be pitied.

(I used to think that if you had anything worth guarding, you either carry it around with you, or get rid of it as quickly as you can. But that doesn’t work with humans, so it’s not much of a surprise when people hire bodyguards and the like. Only, those are to be pitied and anyone _I_ pity should look for another job. Additionally, as a teenager I used to do a lot of dirty work. Not just the dishwashing kind.)

We infiltrate the palace quickly and quietly and bring ourselves into a position that allows us to lie in wait for when the rest of the rebel forces arrive to take over the palace and drive out the Fire Nation from the centre.

.

After a fashion, lying in wait is a situation in which you can mostly gauge the personalities of those lying in wait with you.

I’m more of a relaxed waiter. Why bother with all the tension until it’s necessary? But you do have to watch out not to drift off, which is surprisingly easy for a body used to naptimes and that sort of thing.

So, when there’s not a need for complete silence, I usually make conversation.

Not this day. There is a need for complete silence.

Thankfully, I don’t have to sit idly by. I heal the other’s injuries. Better if they’re fully movable during any assaults.

I’m grateful the kid seems to be passed out, still. I would not want to have to explain to him the concept of hiding from his comrades or the consequent consequences.

.

We all know death. We’ve all seen it, in some form. A pet or a car-accident. An animal’s mangled body on the road even as you try to steer clear of it, the inevitable bump when the car crushes it even more beneath a wheel.

I have killed wilfully and in full awareness of the consequences.

However, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed it or been needlessly cruel. (So long as the feeling of violation of your own body, being afraid of spit in your mouth or throat because of me isn’t counted.)

We… are forced to watch the mentally twelve-year-old princess burning some of her servants whom she doesn’t recognise and so thinks of as traitors because of one slight misstep in protocol. It happens so quickly that all I can do is hold the female soldier’s mouth shut as she lurches to dive into the flames that must be hot on an almost volcanic level to burn them as quickly as they do. Cold sweat spreads on my neck. If she can do that…

I don’t think she intended to kill when she and I fought. She, most likely, wanted to take us as prisoners. Logical, really. Whoever is with the Avatar most likely has connections to the rebel forces and can supply the Fire Nation with locations and weaknesses. Capture at their hands was never an option, but seeing this, I don’t think they’d be above torturing someone as young as Katara.

And, oh Spirits, Azula’s face afterwards as she looks at her fists in astonishment, it’s…

She doesn’t know her power.

She hadn’t intended to kill them. She _killed two people_ by _accident._ Her knees tremble visibly. Voices echo along the corridor.

Azula, princess that she is, forces her legs still and draws herself up to her full height. But… I don’t think she should see the horrified faces of those coming. I don’t think she should know that kind of primal fear of her as a monster just yet. She could… she could irrevocably turn to the life of an incurable sociopath. And, suddenly, all she is is a girl who killed someone by accident.

Most adults can’t deal with that.

What do I do?

I have to do something. It’s not something you leave be when you know you’re the only one who could even remotely be something she needs.

It might be close to playing god.

This is likely me getting in way over my head.

I refuse to sit back and watch.

“Hide”, I tell my companions, and I leave our hiding place, unseen by Azula, even as she attempts to find the source of noise. A door slides open, and with a desperate lunge, I grasp her wrist and yank her out of the room through another door that is still ajar.

She lets me. She takes one look at me, at my grip on her, and allows me to bodily drag her through a maze of rooms, until we get to a window.

Shouts from pursuers aren’t far behind, and even as I shove it open, Azula seems perfectly content with my sudden plans of escape. I decide to contemplate this at a later date when I don’t have a baby waking up in my arms, no doubt hungry, an angry horde of Fire Nation people hot on my heels, and a mentally ten-year-old unstable princess with her first kill ever on her lily-white hands.

I really am fucking up the plot.

But, looking at her for another second, before I climb outside and offer her a helping hand from the roof, I don’t regret a thing. She’s a girl. Even if I don’t manage to fix her, she is in a unique position of power, not just because of her birth. She’s a formidable firebender, slightly insane, and hopefully not beyond saving.

She has the capacity for compassion.

(I have to believe that.)

We take the chutes. I knew I’d get to play with them at some point, but I hadn’t expected to get a nice view of the explosions and fights occurring all over the city.

I, with the princess of the Fire Nation herself and the son of the governor feel like this is far less real than anything I’ve done so far. I can barely believe I’m doing this.

I planned none of this.

I will fuck it all up.

The question is, in a good way?

And there, there I see Bumi putting down some firebenders, O-Ting at his side.

Our ride progresses smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that the explosion a few measly metres in front of us should be expected.

Both Azula and I escape the debris by vaulting over the side of our ‘cart’ onto another set of roofs. Where firebenders await us. But, recognising their princess, they hesitate. That’s all I need to knock them out with a sharp yank of their saliva to the backs of their throats where the impact is hard enough to make them fall unconscious.

There are perhaps four or five more of these encounters before we reach the city gates.

Where we meet the resistance leader.

This time, it’s my presence that stalls them, and I’m forced to quickly find an explanation. “Some of the others are holding out in the palace, practically holding her friends hostage, the princess has agreed to come with me.”

It’s so much bullshit in one sentence, I don’t blame him for looking like he wants to strangle me along with her. “And where-“, he cuts himself off, and a glance towards Azula’s suddenly burning hands tells me why.

She’s staring at me with murder in her eyes. “Spirits, princess, work with me here”, I hiss, and she realises what I’m doing. She and I, both rather insane and looking like it, turn towards the resistance leader as one. “We’re going on a little fieldtrip. Good luck!”

And we just… move past him through the blasted-open gate.

His face! His _face_!


	11. Perspectives

**Pakku**

If he had to describe his life in one sentence, he would call it a series of unfortunate circumstances.

He’d been born to a married couple, certainly. That guaranteed a certain status for him. An arranged marriage, in time, and the possibility of a promotion high enough in standing for him to have a say in the city a bastard child would never attain. Yet, his father’s unyielding and unending demands for perfection did not make for a happy childhood. Emotion was only a tool for better mastery of bending, and only who had mastered their own self, their own emotions through discipline and constant control, was even acknowledged. The prestige of their family line made it imperative that Pakku live up to these expectations.

His mother, never quite at the height of her strength after his birth had put an unbridgeable distance between Pakku and her. He inferred that with the demands of her husband, caring for Pakku was a weakness she would not permit herself. Instead, she began to resent her own child for taking her strength from her ageing body. The child grew to understand not to seek affection from his parents.

She died of a worsening illness that even she as a healer could not cure when Pakku had just turned five. He had only felt the lack of a burden for a moment, before he realised what her death meant for him. His otherwise bleak existence became even less colourful without her slightly moderating influence on his father.

Every hour of every day of his life was dedicated to bending. There was no time for him to play with any friends he might have had, long forgotten when he himself began to believe in the words his father spat at him. ‘As expected of my son.’ ‘Do better tomorrow.’ ‘I expect you to have mastered this by sundown.’

And Pakku did everything demanded of him.

He was engaged to Kanna at the age of thirteen. A girl he thought he could come to love, in time. She was kind, and warm, and his exact opposite. He felt she perhaps could thaw the ice his father had nurtured around his heart. As they spent more and more time around each other, his hope grew into a conviction. He would love her, and she would love him and they would be happy raising a family together.

Then, his father, having taken more and more patrols under his command farther and farther into dangerous territories, returned home slightly injured. For reasons he did not disclose to his son, he did not seek out a healer. The wound festered, and he died shortly after. Not the honourable death his forefathers had gotten. Pakku never would understand, having had to train within an inch of his life at the very least every other month, and so honed his will to survive into a sharp current of water. It was all he knew, and so he stood by his father’s teachings.

Still reeling from the sudden loss of the man who controlled almost every aspect of Pakku’s life, he sought out Kanna, to speak to someone about it. Unable to find her, he found out from her own father, who was much like his own, that she had packed her things and left.

Without a word of good-bye.

And Pakku felt his icy heart shatter.

There was little else to do, but finally become a Master waterbender, and go to war.

Yet, even as he recognised his father’s mirage in his actions, he did not die. He killed. And killed.

He saw his comrades die. He witnessed atrocities, and slowly but surely, he felt himself become a mirror image of his father, and avoided looking at reflective surfaces. He began to subtly bend all water around him so that if he did glance its way, he would not have to see his father’s face.

Though he did his best to avoid it, the day came that he took on his first student. He was a promising young boy, talented in every way but the art of recognising when he’d pissed Pakku off royally. It turned out, that his teaching methods, more punishments than anything else, were very effective, and another was sent his way.

When his two students finally became Masters Pakku had the standing needed to take command of the waterbenders of the Northern Watertribe. He, without family, and little else to distract himself from the shards of his very being, he took the post. Not long after, his first student died as a result of his recklessness in battle. Pakku was sombre at the funeral, stone-faced even as his student’s mother screamed in his face.

With two more students, despite this public display, and the duties he carried out, his work became his life.

He did not mind it. Less emotional demands were made of him, and his station prevented any annoyances from bothering him.

_Prank described_

Until, one day, he heard about a two-year-old boy born to non-benders flinging himself from an icy canal without any kind of prior training. That, and there had been very little up until then that could make his fellow benders this excited about a prank. The last time their cheeks had been stretched this widely Teraka had altered all the sculptures in the fountains to include phalli in unlikely places.

Pakku himself found them rather tasteless, and had let his then-student know, but they were at the very least accurate and in the case of his own father’s statue, the large protrusion on his forehead had been amusing. He hadn’t removed it until Arnook had begun sending him knowing looks.

Naturally, he went to meet the child. In the back of his mind, he though it didn’t reflect too well upon Hotaka that his two-year-old already had a reputation. The likelihood of the boy being a talented lump of flesh, though, was minimal.

The brat was cheeky, yet Pakku felt confident he could beat the insolence out of him.

He had raw talent, a mischievous spirit and a kind of oddly twisted intellect Pakku had never encountered before. The boy would grow, still disrupting lives around his with regularity, and he would grow on Pakku without his notice or permission.

There were, of course, whispers of ‘prodigy’ in the mouths of everyone with too little to do with themselves. Pakku endeavoured to keep them far away from Kaito. That boy did not need a bigger head than he already had. All the remotely talented ones turned into pubescent morons with something to prove, and Pakku felt that for once, this should be beneath a student of his.

Spirits knew Teraka had turned out the worst of the lot. Perhaps Pakku should have trained him less strictly, because then the boy would not think one night a likely timeframe for sticking male genitalia to every statue in the city. After all, he had made the lout practise his control for three nights in a row by way of forming perfect roses for the festival that year. Pakku’d had better things to waste his time on.

The day the boy finally took it too far, dumping the princess and her bodyguard of the day in the canal, Pakku felt a kind of punishment was in order. What Kaito, free spirit of the ocean that he was, despised most was boredom. So then, he was more often than not forced to read up on history, tactics and guard duties. Endless registers of names to be recited.

It never did take. Pakku’s methods were not for the boy.

And while he still figured out a way to mould the boy into something respectable, his father died.

Kaito, devastated, threw himself into bending, while also caring for his mother. Pakku was slightly glad for the power his position afforded him, so that he could give the boy an allowance for their living expenses. He did not interfere any further, but he did try to impart some wisdom however possible.

He found that this new enthusiasm for the art of bending, for the kind of fighting and flexibility of the mind required, finally betrayed Kaito’s genius. The day Pakku allowed him to spar against him, he found that with more guidance, this boy would one day become his match. He began to pass on his legacy.

The reasoning was simple. He would never have children. His line of prestigious benders would end, and he had not found a single person worthy of the family teachings, until now.

Kaito, of course, had no idea what he was being given. Yet he took to it as though he’d been born as Pakku’s grandson instead of a warrior and his wife.

He’d chosen well.

So, too, thought Arnook, who for a reason neither of them would disclose, became friends with the young man. Pakku supposed that they shared similar values, and so long as Kaito made another friend, of which he did not seem to have many his age, much like Pakku, who had never bothered with it, he was doing well enough.

Although constantly annoying the princess, who would, in all likelihood, soon hold some power over him, was unwise, Kaito continued to do so indefinitely.

Pakku deemed him a Master as soon as he had handed over the last family secret as though it were something all others were privy to as well, and Kaito seemed to do little with his newfound freedom other than drink and celebrate. Pakku never did manage to beat some decorum into the brat.

And then, another death took Kaito’s seemingly last will to struggle with her. His mother whom he had been caring for since he was a child himself.

Pakku was no longer his teacher. He would not intervene, for the young man was an adult now, in his eyes, and ought to fix himself up to a presentable image soon enough. Pakku had managed it, after all and he’d taught Kaito almost all he knew.

It was fortunate, he decided, that Kaito’s friend Hahn had less inhibitions.

And, the day of the invasion, Pakku knew he’d chosen right. He was surprised by the tactical mind his former student displayed over the course of the invasion. And the other waterbenders appeared to think similarly, for they took to his orders disguised as suggestions well. In the back of his mind, Pakku began to think of the possibility of retirement.

It would all come differently. With the near-death of the Moon Spirit, the Fire Nation had gone too far. It was time they ended this war.

There was hope for it, too, with the Avatar awakened, and Pakku’s legacy carried into the corners of the world.

.

**Arnook**

Life growing up as the younger brother to the next chief of the Northern Watertribe was in equal parts carefree as it was one of being constantly overlooked. Arnook, for the most part, got to do what he wanted, and with only his elder brother to really look out for him, he explored the city. He got to know all sorts, and liked them, for the most part.

He met his future wife during these exploits, and they started out as playmates while his brother went to patrol their territory’s borders. They were enamoured with each other from the very beginning. She was the reason he never succumbed to jealousy.

She, too, was the reason Arnook was able to listen and guide instead of simply forging ahead. His brother and he, they made a good team, he felt. That was, until his brother died in a Fire Nation raid. It was time for him to take over, and even as he did his best not to, he found himself hardening in response to the growing burdens placed upon his shoulders.

Once again, his wife reinforced her place as the light of his life by gifting him with a daughter, pure and lovely. Arnook was aware of his own shortcomings, and he’d known, had the Spirit of the Moon not granted her life, he would have… perished. Much like his wife did, a few short years after the incident. An infection, noticed far too late to save her. And there would be no second miracle.

He found a way to be grateful with what was left to him: his daughter, and his tribe.

Arnook always thought the unruly student of Pakku’s would make it far in their tribe. He was spirited and wild, and _talented_.

And unrepentant, lying through his teeth about being sorry, that’s for sure. Arnook couldn’t help but like him. His daughter hated the boy with a passion he’d rarely seen from her.

It made him think that perhaps, one day, they would fall in love. It would be an amusing story to tell his grandchildren. But then they both grew older, and Kaito turned into someone who resembled Arnook’s deceased elder brother. He grew determined, and somehow tempered with intelligent eyes assessing all those around him.

Arnook thought, in an odd sense of twisted belief, perhaps his brother’s soul had been reincarnated into this boy. He had died in the month Kaito must have been conceived. And so, in order to not see his reborn brother die once more, he kept him close.

And, from the night of Yue’s sixteenth birthday onwards, they became friends.

There was much of his brother to be found in Kaito, and he was glad for his decision to keep him inside the city as much as possible. When he learned of the infatuation of his Captain’s son with his daughter, he even mentioned the possibility to her. He would feel odd about his brother’s soul marrying his daughter, after all.

Then, the invasion happened.

Yue… became the moon.

Arnook’s heart _shattered_.

He cried into his brother’s shoulder, glad some of his family remained, no matter that they did not share any blood. He felt it fitting that the dagger he received from his wife long ago would remain in deserving hands.

.

**Katara**

She’s always been the special one.

She tried not to rub it in Sokka’s face too often. She knew, had he been only a few years older, he would have left her to go with their father, and most days she was grateful he didn’t, couldn’t.

But she knew, she was the gifted one. She was the bender, after all.

That was dangerous, she knew. It was her the Fire Nation was after, every time they raided the village.

He protected her and their village as best he could, but her was only a boy. And she was only a girl. Her mother’s death still ached. And, to not make her sacrifice meaningless, she couldn’t act. Not, when they dragged someone from their home, not when they destroyed hand-crafted property. She was helpless in the face of the Fire Nation. But, one day, she would travel to the North Pole and learn from the waterbenders there. Then, she and Sokka would join their father and fight the Fire Nation, and defeat them. Then it would be _them_ that felt _helpless and weak_.

Along with harbouring these plans for revenge, Katara was also smart.

She knew that, too. Not as _clever_ as Sokka, no, but intelligent all the same.

Talented, and she knew it. Katara always got what she wanted, whomever she wanted it from. People didn’t tell her ‘no’.

Until Pakku.

Even so, she wore him down in the end. She argued, and won. (It would be a long time until she understood that it was never about winning or losing.)

However, she wasn’t special to him except for through her grandmother and that she was the first girl he taught. There’s nothing about _her_ that he really found exceptional. No, that honour was reserved for _Kaito_. He acted like he was so superior, and the worst part was that he _was_. It grated, made her bristle worse than when the others were being immature and all the work was dumped on her _again_.

But how could she, someone who never had a teacher until Pakku hold up against someone who’d been taught by the same man ever since he was two years old?

She couldn’t. That fact hurt worse than any insult anyone had ever thrown her way. She was no longer the favoured one, the most special or talented, or gifted. She felt, for the first time as though she understood her brother when he said that life wasn’t fair. Somehow, for once, she wasn’t _enough_.

Katara wanted, and could never have.

And he was so aggravating! So arrogant, so nonchalant, so easy-going and unappreciative of his privilege. How could she not despise him?

And yet, he treated Aang and her brother like… she didn’t know, had never seen interactions like this, but somehow, he looked out for them. So why was she different? She _knew_ her feelings were irrational. Why didn’t _he_ see it?

And the invasion. He just went… cold.

A block of ice, where before there was a twisting river, splashing her face at every opportunity. How could she not be suspicious after he helped the _Prince_ of the _Fire Nation_ escape? Someone, who’d hunted Aang ever since she and Sokka discovered him in the ice.

He _bent blood_.

There was something so _wrong_ with that, she didn’t even know how to say it. (But he saved that warrior’s life.) Pakku just accepted it. And then Yugoda did the same, and Katara didn’t know any more what was good and what was right, and where the difference lay.

It turned out she never knew _anything_ , because once she’d seen him and Pakku ‘spar’, she knew the old man never took her seriously. She wasn’t worth his concentration as Kaito seemed to be.

Then he just… out-argued a general, all casual and matter-of-fact-like. He put so much into perspective. At least they could agree on one thing: Aang was not a weapon.

Then he bent the clouds. Clouds! While he’d been high!

And when Omashu happened, and somehow things went all wrong, before they managed to get the resistance out of the city, she was somehow glad he was there, no matter his hungover state. He somehow always knew what to do. She tried not to think about how gently he handled the Fire Nation baby even while she knew what those hands had done.

He mentioned prisoners and it touched too close to her heart for her not to get upset at the memory of her mother. Their conversation about expectations when he followed her to apologise sends her reeling once more, questioning anything she ever thought was true.

Aang is twelve, she realised, and not a god. How could he be? He was twelve, and she’d been expecting him to defeat the Firelord. She still did. And did it make her feel _guilty_.

So, when it came to learning to bend the clouds, she grudgingly listened. And, oddly enough, his advice helped.

Much later, when he defeated both the princess and that other girl, rescued them all with the help of Bumi and O-Ting, all she could do is follow his orders while he headed into the heart of danger. Upon his return, she was glad he’d come back. No matter his lazing around, his mocking gaze, he _took_ _care_ of Aang, of them. And he made them leave him behind.

He made them leave him behind with reasons to worry far more than they had so far. _Comet_. Spirits, this was so much worse than she thought it would be. No wonder he thought she needed the extra incentive to be better, train harder.

Somehow, as she gave him a brief hug goodbye, trying not to think about how safe it made her feel, she got the feeling that he’d sent them off, knowing they couldn’t stomach what he was about to do.

The invasion was bad enough.

Katara just hoped that somehow, they would get to be just Aang, Sokka and Katara for a while. Their time as four was so real, so much at once, and too many revelations stacked one after another that she felt like she was going to topple. At least for a little while, they would be… just them.

.

**Mai**

Mai had always been a victim of her circumstances.

She learned, true to a malleable child’s nature, that to keep silent and pretty was rewarded, while an kind of crossing lines, even the invisible ones, was severely punished. She was never flogged as a child, or anything the like.

She was isolated.

Ironic how only her closing the doors to others got the ones in her home to open. Just a crack.

The Royal Fire Academy For Girls only enforced these rules, if only through detentions instead of her spacious room at home. Her room, with countless puncture holes in the walls, the oldest from kitchen knives, filched when she went to retrieve herself some sweets for her good behaviour during the gala.

She hates these social events with a passion. The smiles she begets are utterly false. She would rather they frown and show what they truly think of her, the blank face along the stretch of wall.

Azula takes to her because she is not attempting to garner her favour. Ty Lee is just sweet. She is a balm to Mai’s raw and hungry soul. She is light in her darkness of boredom.

At first, Mai isn’t certain what it means for her, then later it’s unclear what it means _to_ her.

What is clear, is that she likes Azula’s brother, Zuko, for the simple reason that he’s never whispered about her when he thought she wasn’t listening, and that his gaze doesn’t pass her over, either. And then, the incident with the apple. She knows he’d do the same for any other person, even for his sister, whom Mai can’t decide to hate or love in this sopping wet moment that feels like he’s hugging her.

But then he is banished, and only a few years later, it feels like Mai is banished, too.

There have been whisperings of the Avatar that no one feels free to share with her. But the Siege of the North carries confirmation on the wind of defeat that the Fire Nation has not tasted since the likes of Ba Sing Se.

His companions, it is said, are siblings from the Southern Watertribe. And, since he has made it to the North Pole, it is assumed he will turn to the Earthkingdom next, to learn earthbending. She considers the possibility of meeting him, this Avatar who will change the world and has already changed the tides in this war.

The first time she sees him, not through the mist obscuring her brother from her seeking gaze, he is taking after King Bumi in a display of impossibility that she quickly discards from her mind. Azula is taking care of him, and she will be able to satisfy her curiosity later. First, she must do her part in capturing his companions.

Instead of the two people they expect, it is three, and she barely catches a glimpse of the tall figure taking on Ty Lee. He makes her usual grace look clumsy and it is clear that he is a skilled bender who doesn’t underestimate the petite girl trying to get close to him. Which makes him more dangerous than the other two by virtue of paranoia alone. And then, when Mai lands on the ground with a thump herself, but doesn’t allow herself to be captured easily, the three of them disappear below to where another fight is taking place. They are evidently far smarter than Mai gave them credit for.

Mai sees them all clearly for the first time in the middle of another fight.

The two siblings are easily identified, the girl the other bender, whom Mai gleefully challenges, the boy proficient at dodging and slinging his boomerang around. The third one is the tall one, locked in a confrontation with Ty Lee, out-manoeuvring her with Mai’s brother in strapped to his chest. She’s not seen Ty Lee struggle with a stationary opponent before.

And then, she doesn’t have any more time to watch, as the King of Omashu lobs rocks the size of her torso at her.

Next she catches a glance of him, he’s shattered Azula’s forearm, and she almost shouts out of worry for Tom-Tom. But her brother remains unharmed, thanks to his efforts, but Azula doesn’t seem all that concerned. And what did Mai expect from her?

Then, the Avatar goes into the Avatar state, and it’s all she can do to seek shelter as the enemy escapes. Azula is unmoving, Ty Lee is _half dead_ and Mai has to pick up the pieces.

Ty Lee’s condition is critical. The healers tell Mai that it is unlikely that she will live another fortnight.

And that she should consider the options of mercy. _Mercy._ As though Ty Lee were a dog. To be put out of her misery.

The tall bender returns to offer her a missing shard later, stepping out of the shadows in a startling display of stealth, and proceeding to threaten her. She knows the ‘negotiations’ did not go well for her, she is still too unbalanced, and he was not nearly as civilised enough not to threaten her mother, who is a civilian and innocent bystander in all this. It infuriates her.

Yet, she must let him go.

But he doesn’t seem all that intent on leaving, since she finds him in the kitchens, feeding her brother, and holding an interesting conversation with the cooks.

She finds him not altogether unpleasant when he’s not choking her mother half to death. And she sees a chance when she notices his healed shoulder. She knows it was still hurt when they negotiated earlier.

Mai grasps this chance as delicately as she can with her trembling fingers.

Ty Lee means _everything_ to her. More so than her infant brother, more than Azula, more than her half-forgotten love for Zuko. Ty Lee will not be _put down_.

And so she finds herself agreeing to that favour of equal value, and knows she would have agreed to so much more. Anything, really.

She hardly has the presence of mind to appreciate the reveal of his face. One she commits to memory, knowing it will be her only chance, and that she is extended a courtesy not many receive here. The cold and professional way he handles Ty Lee is in stark contrast to his gentle handling of her brother, and she wonders at the significance of it. He doesn’t look old enough to be a father, so perhaps it is a sibling that gave him the knowledge of how to care for a child.

Mai watches in amazement as Ty Lee’s breathing becomes easier and the bruises fade from her skin.

The confrontation later is far less pleasant, but Mai is only glad, so _glad_ , that Ty Lee is healed. She tries not to give her disregard for Azula’s state any room in her mind, but the thoughts are creeping back, stealthily, and somehow they take the shape of sardonic blue eyes on hers as she is mocked for her act of caring.

Several long hours later, when the fights are rampaging in the streets, she discovers two charred bodies where she left Azula, and an open window in the princess’ stead.

It is imperative that they find her.

So, Mai and Ty Lee set out after her, hours before any of the soldiers are ready or willing to depart.

They pick up on the tales about a girl matching Azula’s description and a tall man with the _bluest_ eyes most of the female populace has ever seen carrying a baby and follow their trail.

She can tell they’re getting closer by the frequency of the rumours, and the longevity of the stays of the trio in the villages. Azula must be getting her way more and more for her comforts. She always does get what she wants, doesn’t she?

But they can’t travel too quickly. Ty Lee, for all the healing he did, is still recovering. She only hopes they reach Azula on time.

On time for what, though, she has no idea.

All she knows is that she never wants to make the choice of having to kill a friend because they might otherwise die in incredible pain. What would the Fire Lord do to Azula for failure?

Zuko…

It shouldn’t matter. She hasn’t thought of him in years, really. It shouldn’t matter now.


	12. the Best Teacher

Some say that pain is the most efficient teacher.

They are, in most respects, correct. It is a rare kind of pain to literally be thrown into another world. And, ‘world’ is a word I do not use lightly. It is, as I have found, a tricky thing to define. Where I would usually have claimed that the place I find myself in these days (days, a funny constant to have at all) is fictional, I had the privilege to find out that it is in fact my new reality.

On the outside, it looks fun and exciting.

Those emotions are unfortunately some that cannot be felt without some level of self-delusion, as I have found. A kind of selective forgetfulness, in order not to fall into complete and utter madness that I would have no chance of returning from.

Because I hold my rational reasoning in high regard and would hate to lose it, even if it would make so many things far easier than they have been so far if I were insane, I have decided that I will use the time I promised the princess to think through my situation.

I am, as of now, alone in this world insofar that I am the only one who has memories of my ‘original’ – another word I use carefully, not knowing if it is actually that place that I originate form – world. This puts me in a lonely position, likely to react violently when it finally becomes too much. There is, unfortunately, no real outlet for this emotion, no cure. Surrounding myself with individuals and making them into companions and friends helps, but there can be no cure. Amnesia, for starters, would only be treating symptoms and I, for all the pain these memories of mine have brought me, have no desire to forget where I come from.

It is a rare kind of desperation that colours my actions. While I do regard my second life as very precious, I have no desire to continue it indefinitely. Certainly, I have set myself goals to accomplish, lofty ones at that, but they aren’t impossibly far out of reach. Indeed, my definition of ‘impossibility’ has shifted greatly, and I find now, that the hogwash I told Katara about contiguity is rather astute. I will, at some point, if none of the other methods I come up with do anything, create a situation in which I will die, in order to have a chance at communicating with the Spirits in the Spirit World of this place.

This is a fact.

One that, I should say, doesn’t scare me as much as it perhaps should. I am, as of now, quite confident that even if I do not manage to enter the Spirit World and communicate with its inhabitants, I will either disappear or be better prepared for my next life, should I get another. Something that, I am sure, is not worth contemplating until it occurs.

Therefore, and here and now within my lifetime, I will distract myself from this loneliness, this hurt. I will, for all that pain is said to be the best teacher, do my best to turn it into a bothersome constant that I can ignore if I set my mind to it.

But, there is a niggling question in the back of my mind that I do not mind agonising over. It is interesting to contemplate, after all. Who or what is the cause of this world’s existence? It seems to me to be a power coming to the creators of the Avatar cartoon series. Or, some powerful being is amusing itself with creating this world after that example. Or, this world served as the basis of the series itself, the idea somehow induced into the creator’s minds.

If I go with the theory that the production of this fiction as I knew it before being reborn alone was enough to cause this world’s existence, there is nothing standing in my way of creating my own little world for universal quirks to dump unsuspecting persons in. Since I dislike the thought of any human having that much power and the sick fantasies of some authors should never be made into any kind of reality, I will disregard the idea on the grounds of making myself less uncomfortable. I am, after all, avoiding pain here as best I can.

Now, the amusement of some very powerful being – because, as I have mentioned before, I am unwilling to believe that what has happened to me doesn’t take lots of power to accomplish – is something I wonder at. This amusement must be either the very patient kind, or the being has the ability to fast-forward through time to make it more interesting. That is, if amusement is something that isn’t unique to humans. Unless, of course, humans can one day move others of their kind into until-that-point-in-time fictional worlds. Because all of this seems to me to be so very unlikely, that humans should one day ascend into what I equate to minor godhood, or at the very least powerful beings on a metaphysical plane, I will also disregard this aspect.

If this world has been in existence of its own accord, and the creators of a cartoon series in my original one got their ideas from this, coincidentally not changing even minute details about it that they knew of, it would seem that it would be possible that all the worlds thought up in fiction are in fact in existence already. It would also appear to me that my presupposed notion of a human’s ability to think up their own thoughts and ideas might be incorrect. This would bother me greatly, because it would lead me to question whether my also presupposed notion of freedom of thought is a delusion.

And, once again, because it makes me so deeply uncomfortable, and opens up queries of how many other notions of mine are in fact false, I disregard the idea.

But the fact that this world and my original one are connected somehow, be it only through me and my unlikely existence with the foreknowledge of what happened in the cartoon, remains. But it’s entirely shot to crap now with what I’ve done.

At the time, it seemed like such a simple decision. Well, it’s consequences are anything but. If I have learned anything in these past few days, it’s that impulsive action doesn’t really work out for me all that nicely. _One mistake is the necessary parent of another._

Pain, well, Azula’s not easy to live with on a good day, and being forced to move around all the time, and even caring for a baby, she’s irritable and prone to lashing out. With flames.

Because that’s obviously the way to go.

I try not to hold it against her. She’s ten, mentally, and I’ve begun treating her like it. She’s been conditioned to react to anything she doesn’t like with violence.

“Put your clothes back on, princess. We’re not staying the night here, out in the open.”

“But they stink!”

“Then you should’ve taken the opportunity to wash them.”

“What? No, you should’ve!”

“Believe me, princess, I have no intention of touching your underwear, ever.”

She colours bright red, “P-Pervert!” and accompanies the shout with a fist of fire that I only avoid because I know it is coming. At the very least, I get to hone my reflexes for attacks from behind.

What makes it worse for her, is not only losing all the comforts she’s used to and has never lived without, but also that when I inspected her head injury, I came to the conclusion that she would need a professional healer or some kind of miracle. Like that water from the Spirit Oasis. If nothing else, when I do go back to the North Pole, I could maybe filch some.

There is also… a kind of swelling… in her… brain.

I don’t know a thing about blood clots or even the human brain, but I think it’s what’s causing her to react so violently without measuring herself. She has no control and were I anyone else, I’d have suffered far worse than a few burns by now for chastising her when she’s being worse than just arrogant and antagonistic. When she’s purposefully causing hurt in others. She does it frequently and with great pleasure.

Well, I’ve decided I’ll make it more painful than keeping her mouth shut could ever be, opinionated person that she is.

She hates me, to some degree, and reveres me at the same time. I’ve not told her any of my suspicions, but I’ve instated daily sessions of moving cooling water over her scalp and trying to dissolve that clot in her brain.

I don’t feel comfortable enough trying to cut the clot up and moving the pieces out of her body, however. My control isn’t good enough. The only thing I can do for her at the moment is to soothe the constant headaches and see that the rest of her brain is sufficiently bled-through.

Certainly, I can bend other people’s spit, but that’s nothing compared to controlling blood flow _inside_ the body.

I need the full moon for that, and lots of practise before I do that kind of bending inside of her skull. It’s bad enough that she’s with me in the first place. I don’t need a dead princess on my hands as opposed to the live one. Surprisingly enough, that would me more of an inconvenience.

Accepting my own inadequacy is… painful.

It’s been an enlightening time.

So, here we are, the three of us, in an inn for once, and me feeling distinctly glad for the bathhouse on the opposite side of the dirt-road. I’ve asked the kind old lady who rented us the room to look after the brat for a bit. She bought the story of us fleeing from the Fire Nation without a doubt. And we are. Just for different reasons than she thinks.

Removing my mask for the first time in weeks for longer than it takes to wash my face or take a bite of food, I breathe deeply through my mouth. This has been a journey and a half. I haven’t had the fun kind of female company, I’ve played surrogate parent to a brat I didn’t father and a weird kind of minder for Azula. I deserve this break.

I sink into the steaming water, oddly enough alone for now, and lean my arms over the sides of the large basin.

I am, for once, alone in a room.

And suddenly, I have the desire for company, for voices to drown out my thoughts instead of my expected desire to use the opportunity for some me-and-my-other-neglected-bodily-appendages-time.

Drinking has always been a good coping mechanism for that, and the old lady did say to go indulge. I could, perhaps, even get laid. There are a few pretty young things in town, and so long as I’m not destroying anyone’s future, I’ll gladly have a go.

.

Turns out hitting on the mayor’s daughter gets you privileges. Because she’s misunderstood me.

Azula is snickering at my situation. The mayor’s daughter, Teyumi, has decided that I am apparently testing the waters for a courting.

And, because I’ve promised the kind old lady from the inn some work in exchange for our stay, I’m sort of forced to go along with it. To a degree. I’m very evasive to meeting her parents, and Teyumi thinks I’m intimidated. Kind as she believes herself to be, she doesn’t force me. Instead, we spend cutesy picnic dates with Tom-Tom, whom she adores.

The brat is soaking up all the attention. I swear he looks smug every time she hugs him to her ample chest. The brat and I will have words when this is over. Preferably out of Azula’s far too nosy earshot.

I contemplated seduction.

But this is the kind of woman who will hunt me down for revenge if I do sully her innocence, of which I had no idea when I propositioned her subtly, and I don’t have the patience for that. I’ll never marry in this world, not until I know some things with certainty. It would be a world of pain, and for all that it teaches, I don’t appreciate the lessons it’s been doling out so far more than for their deductive value.

And, Azula does have some kind of moral code when it comes to courtships, the hypocritical witch. Which means, she sort of encourages Teyumi. It makes me wonder whether she would prefer to settle somewhere for the duration it takes me to figure out her head.

“No,” she says, when I ask, with a scowl on her face that makes her look her mental age, “They’ll catch up to us.”

I don’t need to ask whom she’s talking about. There are rumours of a Fire Nation convoy following our trail. Not, that the people telling me those rumours know it’s us they’re looking for.

“So long as we don’t leave the country, and in secret at that, they will inevitably find us,” I say, and she crosses her arms over her chest, looking away. On any other face, it would’ve looked childish, but on Azula, I’ve noticed, anything looks imperious. But, I find petulance doesn’t suit her. “All we can do, is control the setting when they do.”

This catches her attention, and she glances back at me from the corner of her eye, looking away as soon as she spies the brat attempting to scale my shoulders. She, for all that she looks the part of a princess, even in disguise, has a problem with others receiving attention. And, since I’ve made it perfectly clear that I will give a baby the attention he needs, she’s decided not to give him _more_.

As if it made a difference to the brat. He seems to dislike her. Naturally, she’s decided that the feeling’s mutual.

Not, that I blame him, when I recall how she decided he wasn’t worth trading Bumi for. Not, that I can’t understand her reasoning. I just would’ve gotten him back differently than a hostage exchange. Hostages, I’ve found, are far more trouble than they’re worth, anyway.

“We’ll have to move on from here soon, a day after tomorrow at the latest, I’d say. But from here on out, I would be on the lookout for suitable locations for meeting them. Locations that we can easily leave behind, if things don’t go as we want them to.”

“And how do we want them to go?” she asks, suspicious of my motives. Which she is right to be. Which also plays into my hands. I need to unload one of my burdens.

As much as I would like it to be Azula, it will have to be the brat. Looking after them both is exhausting, and practising my fine-control bending on a capillary level doesn’t help with that.

I lift my shoulders, simultaneously making the brat fail, and annoy Azula with my lack of poise. “Either we get them to leave us alone for the time being. Or we secure ourselves a protection detail. One which I might add, won’t consist of more than your friends, if I have anything to say about it, and at the moment, I’m the only one who does.”

Getting her to agree is a struggle and a half, even if essentially, it’s also what she wants. She dislikes me just enough to want to make everything into a fight. She’s slowly but surely getting a handle on how to control her bending.

Trying to burn my face off has a lot to do with that. I’m just glad she has the sense not to try while the brat sits on my shoulders. I have a suspicion that it has more to do with Mai than the child himself. She does feel genuine emotion towards Mai and Circus Girl. I think. Maybe? I’m basing this thesis on how deeply their betrayal at the hot springs prison must have cut.

Monsters come with every colour eye, every shape of face, every kind of body.

Take me, for example. I’m trying to reshape the future by means that anyone who isn’t part monster wouldn’t be able to stomach. I’ve beheaded a man, and traumatised many others.

It won’t be the end of it, either.

.

Azula and I leave the village in the dead of night, and back on the road she reverts back to a bratty child. I hadn’t noticed how much more bearable she was with the comforts of a roof over her head and access to a bath. It’s odd, how we interact. I tell her to do something, she refuses and says I should be the one to do it, then I make a comment that embarrasses her, and she does it herself. This repeats itself over the course of the day five to twenty times.

In the beginning, this was exhausting, but it became a routine of sorts, and I have a feeling if we let it be for a day, I’d feel like something was missing.

It reminds me, once again, of something I once read, _Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensation for misery._ Fitting, in a sense, I believe, for most people who haven’t had their midlife crises yet, to tell them that ‘no, you’re not happy with how things are, and you’re going to have to change that’. Fitting for Azula in the sense that she has found delight in other’s misery, and takes action whenever she can to further it, so that she might feel better about herself and her life.

She’s a creature that thrives on a feeling of superiority.

It’s too bad that, for now, I’m the one with all the power.

We decide on a village so small it’s barely worthy of the name for the confrontation with Mai and Circus Girl. With forest all around, we have good chances of escape, especially with the river nearby.

Five days of stationary waiting by the riverbank, which I use to practise my precise bloodbending, even in daylight, although it’s fairly exhausting, and I should be saving my strength for when Azula’s friends arrive. I find it imperative that I get rid of her as soon as possible, and I’m fairly sure that removing that clot will be a large step towards her recovery.

During this time, Azula herself practises her own bending, and the brat learns to toddle. I manage to keep an eye on him while I practise, since by now I can feel when humans are in my vicinity when I bloodbend.

Mai and Circus Girl arrive suddenly, without preamble, and it’s only my quick reflexes that allow me to roll out of the way of a few punches and stilettos, even as I grab the brat from his attempts at running along the riverbank. Azula, too, I note with some slight surprise and wariness, is geared for a fight.

Two steps backwards, and I am ankle-deep in the water. This is my territory, and Circus Girl will have to be very careful if she wants to engage here. A small fist curls itself into my shirt.

So, this is how we warily begin to talk.

“Azula,” Circus Girl says, looking forlorn and hurt at the way Azula appears battle-ready.

The girl herself looks torn. She knows she needs me, and she needs me to cooperate with healing her. She has, as of now, no idea what my motivations are. And I’ll do my best to keep it that way. Which is why her only choice is to go along with my suggestions. They have nothing to bargain with, at the moment, except for the slowly approaching squad of firebenders in the forest. But Azula and I can be gone within seconds, travelling down the river at a speed they could never hope to follow without machines. The forest here is dense enough that it would slow them down significantly, so really only rhinos would manage to have them catch up with us when we rest. However, if we manage to secure passage on a boat, especially if I help out a little, we will be gone without a trace.

“Tell your soldiers to stay back,” I say, and Mai nods sharply, gesturing with a hand that still holds some knives.

“You said you would return my brother upon the fulfilment of your demands,” she says, eyes murderous.

I shrug slightly, “I did. But you’re no longer in a position to fulfil those demands, are you?”

“It was all a ruse in the first place!” she spits, and I’m tempted to laugh. Sometimes I even manage to fool myself into believing that I’m a man of my word.

“Of course it was,” I agree in a flat voice, more amused than anything at this point. “The princess and I intend to continue on our little journey,” I announce without preamble. I want to leave the brat with Mai, but I want to see if I can get anything out of her for it first, “Preferably without being hunted.”

Circus Girl, once again, only says her friend’s name, “Azula.”

The princess turns her head to the side. A clear showing of lingering hurt that cuts Circus Girl deeply. Azula must still be smarting from how they _handled_ her, as though she could not be given vital information that had absolutely everything to do with her. Their fear will also still be fresh in her mind, what with how willingly she followed me as we fled Omashu.

She has yet to awaken her desire to inspire terror in others. Perhaps her brother’s banishment was cause for her to believe that only fear would keep her safe. It works very well for her father, after all, whereas her uncle with his grief fell from grace for love. I wonder how she would have turned out had her mother devoted more attention to Azula, instead of seeing only her hated husband in the little girl.

This is not the time for speculation, however. These thoughts are rendered moot by Azula’s current set of circumstances anyhow.

For now, I need Mai to demand the return of her brother once she realises only prolonged exposure will allow for any forgiveness on Azula’s part. So long as Mai desires it, of course. Circus Girl does, that much is evident.

“I demand the return of my brother. If you comply immediately, I will consider out earlier agreement fulfilled.”

I consider arguing. But at the moment there is little gain in that course of action. Furthermore, she still owes me that favour. I very much want to be able to cash it in some day.

“Alright,” I agree easily and beckon her closer even as I move a step towards her. I half expect Circus Girl to stop her friend, to demand that I be the one to forsake the advantage of the close river, but she just watches mutely as Mai cautiously comes to stand before me.

“No.”

Azula’s voice proclaiming disagreement is loud and clear over the sound of water lapping at my feet and the rustle of wind in the trees.

“What?” Mai questions, disbelief clear as she stares at the princess.

“He will not hand it over,” she states, and I’m beginning to feel curious about what she intends. What in her convoluted mind has her believe that A, she could control my actions; B, Mai would agree to what she demands when her priority is clearly the brat, since she did not inquire after Azula’s actions before attempting to secure him; and C, the continued presence of the baby to be somehow beneficial to her?

I decide to wait this out. I’m curious about their reactions. This might also provide some insight into whether she views the other two as tools or friends.

“What? Azula, why are you doing this?” Circus Girl asks, dismayed.

Azula chooses to ignore her for the time being, her focus on Mai. It feels like there is a challenge in the air, a rink being laid out before us. A test of will? Of convictions? If it is one, she has chosen the time for it well. If Mai bows to her decision, simply because it was Azula who made it, Azula will have established her dominance once more. Both over Mai and Circus Girl, as well as illusorily over me, for if Mai no longer wishes to take her brother, I will be stuck caring for the brat. The brat who looks quite interested in and aware of the proceedings.

“A leader,” Mai says lowly, carefully and dangerously, “Is _trusted_ when the outcome of their decisions is beneficial to the one who obeys them.”

Holy beefcake, she’s telling Azula to give reasons and give them now, or it will be violence she receives in place of her fulfilled will.

Mai knows that this will have consequences. And she is prepared to meet them head on. What gives her the courage for it is likely the fact that Azula still doesn’t have her memory back, and the fact that I was about to hand over her brother without protest. What provided her with the motivation to go against Azula in this were probably the recent violent events as a – when regarded in a certain light – direct result of Azula’s decisions.

“Trust!” Azula’s shout is as startling as it is gratifying. “If a leader cannot trust that they will be obeyed without question, the leader must choose appropriate punishment to be the motivation for future occurrences!”

It sounds now like they’re spitting textbook answers at each other. Come to think of it, they must have met in school or something. I wonder, how _did_ they all become friends? Innocence and naiveté will have guaranteed that Circus Girl finds no fault in Azula’s behaviour. But Mai?

“Azula, we’re your friends! You can-“ Circus Girl tries to placate, but Azula interrupts her.

“Friends! Don’t make me laugh!” Her voice is so brittle, I think she’s more likely to cry, “It took _him_ for you to tell me what was going on at all! Why we weren’t in the palace, where everyone was, why you looked so much older! How _dare_ you call yourself my _friend_?!”

 _Azula_ is holding back tears.

What the hell. Azula, speculated sociopath, is holding back tears.

Mai’s usually cold expression has morphed into one of surprise. Circus Girl is already crying, hiccups and sniffs colouring the picture as though she were the hurt, the betrayed. There isn’t much left and she would be outright brawling. While I find her display revolting, there is a part of me that wants to reach out to Azula, the little temperamental chit whose company has grown on me these past weeks, and provide some steady comfort.

I note it with surprise. And weariness.

I cannot trust it. I can’t trust that she is genuinely this upset and not manipulating every single one of us masterfully.

And yet, it’s a step in the right direction. After this show of vulnerability, Mai and Circus Girl will no longer fear her as absolutely as they have. Their perhaps misguided sensations of understanding, sympathy and empathy will both allow for emotional comfort for Azula, as well was provide a far more deeply reaching basis for manipulation.

This, I realise, is what Azula wanted. To accuse childishly – as befits her current mental age – and regain servants who will do her bidding. There is the possibility of this being genuine, of course. Which is the only thing holding me back from just handing over the brat to Mai, in order to watch Azula’s reactions.

It would also provide her with an example of how anything she desires, anything she demands makes me want to do the exact opposite. Which would give her relatively solid grounds for manipulation, once more.

Also, while it might have been information Azula would have _liked_ to have that pertained her, it was not essential to her survival, so long as she was kept in a safe environment. Really, this is all my fault, and I can’t begin to say how funny that is.

“Ah,” I say, allowing a smirk to surface, “Perhaps I should leave you to it.”

“Not before handing over my brother, you’re not,” Mai says, focus once again on me.

So this is her decision. Good for her, I suppose. As for Circus Girl…

“Ooooh…” she brawls, “Noooohooo – hic – Azu-zulaaaa”

“Shut up!” The princess snaps. Circus Girl disobeys. “I said SHUT UP!”

Her shout is accompanied by a fist of fire. Circus Girl will not move. Mai can only watch with wide eyes as she tracks the path of the attack.

A scream tears itself from her throat.

I don’t have the time to note all of it. I don’t have the time to cancel out the attack. I’m not standing at the right angle, and Circus Girl is too far from the river.

The only thing left…

With adrenaline pumping through my veins, my heartbeat thumping loudly in my ears, cutting off the guttural noise coming from Mai, I shift my stance. One hand moves upwards from my side, my feet shift as though for a dance, and I take control of Circus Girl’s body.

I make her throw herself out of the path of the attack.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing the utter control I have over her limbs. And with it comes the realisation of why Katara found it such a horrendous technique. With the power I have over Circus Girl, I have taken her freedom. Her body is no longer hers. She is my tool.

I relinquish my hold over her, and feel the beads of sweat trickling down the side of my neck.

Ah.

Exhausting.

I don’t think I’ll be doing that very often.

“Ty Lee!” Mai rushes to her side, “Are you alright?”

Circus Girl’s breaths are coming in short gasps and she doesn’t look like she’s with us at the moment. Good job there, self. You traumatised another person today. Does that fulfil the monthly quota?

Azula herself looks… very much like she did when she burnt two people to lovely charcoal sculptures.

But this time, I’m not taking her and running. I very much doubt I could. The only thing I would be capable of now is to form a platform of ice that can carry me downstream.

I have the urge to run a hand down my face. This is nothing short of a clusterfuck. Maybe I should just… leave this be. I’m not all-powerful. Far from it, when I think of how much damage I’ve caused only this one girl so far.

“What a mess,” I murmur, checking on the location of the firebenders in the forest. They’ve moved closer. A bit more, and I’d feel threatened.

Actually, I already do. I’m not in a condition to fight them and win.

“You!” Azula rounds on me, pointing her finger accusingly, “This is all your fault!”

I chuckle. Which infuriates her further. “Of course it is,” I agree, and my tone is so dry that she takes it as sarcasm.

Even though I did not refute her words, she takes them as though I did, and makes to launch some more fire at my face.

Surprisingly, I don’t even need to move to dodge, as a stiletto cuts through the air, making Azula yank her arm back, for fear of it being sliced to a bloody mess. Mai.

“That’s my brother you’re attacking,” her voice is cold, yet full of fury. First her friend, her precious friend, then her brother, her infant brother. Azula picked the wrong day to attack her allies, temporary as they may be.

Dear me. Azula will have learned an important lesson today. Never expect compliance from someone when attacking their family member and they are in a position to prevent it.

I tend to live in the front of my head. It allows me a margin of peace. Distraction, nothing more, from what I have lost, what I have missed and who I used to be. Now though, it is time that I made use of my literal emotional maelstrom. It is time that I allow the disgust I have for this place and its people, much like I harboured it for my own, to surface. Self-flaggelation does nothing but stall for the inevitable realisation that guilt is not carried out in silence, and that it must be placed with awareness.

I am not at fault here. Not entirely. To say that would be to treat the other parties as children, slaves, or idiots, and to take a burden I have no desire for: a scapegoat. I have no guilt to carry but my own, and it is no heavier than the weight of my own existence.

It’s time for me to take the moral high ground and stay on it. Freedom is my goal, though what is it worth, if it is only I who is free to enjoy it?

“We’re done,” I murmur. It doesn’t shatter the tension.

But it does give them a way out of this situation that doesn’t involve a corpse or two.

“I don’t care for more squabbles today. I will hand over the brat,” I say, carefully positioning myself between Azula and Mai, “And I will move on. Know that whoever comes with me lives with simple rules: do your own laundry, you eat what I find, or find something yourself, and any complaining will be thoroughly ignored.”

With that, I remove the brat from my chest, rather unsuccessfully, for he has his small fists curled tightly into my shirt.

“Don’t be a brat”, I tell him, ignoring my own feelings on the matter, when he refuses to let go of my collar.

“Ba!”, he says.

I pry his strong little fingers away. “Hey, hey”, I soothe, “You’re safe. You’re with your family.”

“Nnnn- nuh!”

I hope that first part wasn’t the precursor to any messes in the kid’s diaper.

“This won’t be the last we see of each other”, I wink at him.

His bottom lip quivers and the tears he didn’t shed until now begin to gather in his eyes. “Ka!”

It’s bizarre, this scene we’re making, and everyone around us is watching with open mouths how he won’t stop clinging to my hair. That really hurts. I am seriously considering cutting it short, even though I will look grotesque with hair like a hedgehog. This is the desperation a baby drives me to.

An extraordinary baby.

But a baby all the same.

“Tom-Tom! Cease this nonsense at once!”, Mai shouts from behind him, so directly at me, really.

He screams.

That’s hurting my ears. I don’t think a slight case of tinnitus would be out of place after this. Lovely. Exhausted, attempting to do the right thing and grant everyone their autonomy without actually granting it, because that never should have been my power to begin with, and partly deaf.

“God, you _baby_ ”, I mutter in a language I haven’t made use of since my second set of parents told me that it was creepy to talk to myself and settle in to endure until he tires. I hear babies do that sometimes.

But, miracle of miracles, he ceases the noise-making and instead sniffles at me pathetically.

“That’s right. This screaming is rather childish, don’t you think? You’re what, two now? Time to get a grip. What do you think you’ll accomplish like this, huh? Kick up a goddamn fuss like that if you know you’ll get somewhere with it, brat”, I lecture and… I cannot believe this is working.

How is this working?

This kid isn’t a kid at all.

I wasn’t just projecting unreasonably. This little guy must be from my world. He’s even from an English-speaking country. The chances… are probably marginally slimmer than there being another rebirth into Avatar. Can he speak yet?

Probably not. Speaking was a challenge and a half. He just hasn’t had anyone to motivate him to talk in _two years_. And, _damn it all_ , it’s been close to eighteen for me. Even as I hand him over to his stunned sister, I say, “I’m around until the princess is back to her right old self. But after that, I’m going to see if I can’t change the world. Tell me why I should bother with a baby while I do that. _Give me any reason at all_.”

In another world, I had a large family. With two older siblings I had become an uncle thrice over by the time I was twenty-five. Both my parents were younger siblings as well, so I had cousins _en masse_. All of them needed looking after at some point. That way, I got to experience of being the caretaker and of being the one taken care of.

Which might be the reason for my reluctance to get rid of the brat now. But I can’t take him with me where I’m going and he’s safest where he is now. Perhaps one day when all this is over, I can kidnap him for real. He knows all this.

Could I… Mai owes me a favour. I could keep in contact with him through her? But she would have the power to skew any messages of mine and also wouldn’t always be there to read any of it to him. Maybe someone permanent in his household? Someone who could be trustworthy with the right motivation?

However, this discovery does not make for an instant family-like connection. It doesn’t guarantee anything at all. The only way for me to achieve my desired understanding is through honesty. But depending on the brat’s personality, with the disadvantage of not being able to speak yet, if I shared everything now, before we have achieved equal footing, our dynamic might be screwed from the very beginning.

Damn, this is complicated.

He needs to speak first. Then, and only then, can we figure something out.

“So this is what you wanted all along,” Azula accuses. And, she’s got me there.

She doesn’t mention the strange language I spoke in, that the brat seemed to understand. Mai cradles her brother carefully, with a mistrustful air. She perhaps thinks I’ve done something to him, then? Well, no matter.

Nothing could make the situation any weirder at this point, I think.

Except for maybe the parrot sitting on Ty Lee’s shocked head.


	13. Pirates

“Bow before me!” The phrase is ruined by the subsequent and inevitable “Squawk!”

There is stunned silence.

“Bow, miscreants!” The iguana parrot on top of Circus Girl’s shocked head is a colourful thing, red, blue, green and yellow. A lovely animal, really, and throwing out phrases I’d have taught my own parrot.

I contemplate whether I would count myself a miscreant, as I attempt to muffle my laughter. Exhaustion makes it harder to control my reactions, and this is just this side of surreal enough to break my composure.

Azula pushes out her chest indignantly, even as she gathers her wits, and suppresses her emotions.

The reptile bird puffs up his chest in response, and dear Spirits, I can’t hold it in any more. I begin to laugh.

Unfortunately, what follows is not a laughing matter.

The river carries a vessel downstream, teeming with the vermin that is known as pirates. I should have seen it coming, really. Usually I try not to buy into clichés, but this one was obvious from the very beginning. Now all we’re missing is a captain with a twirled moustache and hook for a hand.

There is little I can do at the moment, except for draw the long dagger I keep in my boot. I haven’t really fought with a weapon in place of bending in years, and while I used to be proficient as Hahn’s sparring partner, on occasion, I was never anywhere near as exhausted as I am now. Well. There was that one time. But it’s been several weeks since the invasion besides, and I’m out of practise. (How couldn’t I be, with Hahn gone?)

Hahn himself was only ever second to his father, the Commander of the Warriors of the Northern Watertribe. Which is to say that even second-best is impressive. But in this case, second-best won’t quite cut it.

By just how much, I will see momentarily.

Predicting our odds, Mai signals the Fire Nation soldiers hidden in the brush. Three emerge, while the others remain hidden, presumably to take the pirates by surprise when they are engaged, and to be certain that once the fighting is done, they will be capable of taking prisoners.

Mai herself looks to be gearing for a fight as much as myself, but seems almost equally as unsuited for combat. I’m not sure that keeping fighters back for later is the best strategy at the moment.

Shock does a number on your system and I imagine the sudden flood of adrenaline either casts the scene in sharp relief, or makes her slightly woozy as the situation continues to spiral out of control. What impairs her further, is of course the baby-on-board.

A loud war cry rips my attention from the girl, and I find myself engaging a spry man, with daggers for weapons in an exchange of cutting steel and sharp clangs.

As his left hand executes a swift reversal of his grip on the dagger’s handle, I attempt to move out of his range, to adjust. He’s quicker than I am. Just enough to matter.

The very tip of his weapon slices open the sleeve of my tunic. It drags a long line across my forearm. It feels like a paper cut at first. Then a burning sensation begins to spread where blood gathers.

My foot kicks out on instinct. Years of sparring serve me well as he staggers back, wheezing. His eyes flash. Even as he struggles to breathe, a mean grin contorts his face into a mask of sadistic victory.

The instant a chain wraps around my torso – pinning my cut arm and yanking me backwards – I realise why.

These pirates must have been fighting alongside each other for some time, and a glance around shows me the futility of struggling any further. Both Mai and Circus Girl have been subdued. They are on their knees, hands behind their backs as they are tied.

Of the soldiers, one lies facedown, motionless not too far to my right. Another is desperately attempting to cover his other fallen comrade as he clutches his… stump of a left arm. A few yards towards the trees lies a forearm no longer attached to its owner.

Near the lost appendage, four soldiers are locked in battle with six pirates, and losing. The reason for it, when usually I would have pegged them as the winners, being trained for close combat, is the earthbender on the pirate’s side, who is keeping the attacks of the two firebenders well in check. He’s talented and crafty. I admire it, but it’s more than just a mild inconvenience, since we’re on opposing sides.

Azula herself seems to be… simply tiring herself out. Her lack of control affords her a range of a couple metres of personal space, but she looks to be waning. Lack of proper rest, and constant mental strain is taking its toll.

With a frustrated scream, she kicks up a passable attack, but it hits no one, and with a last stumble and fumble, she too is chained. Yet, even so, she spews fire from her mouth, yelling madly. It looks like they are subduing a rabid animal when one finally manages to hit the back of her head with the pummel of his sword and she slumps to the ground, unconscious.

The baby begins to cry.

Well. He seems to know we’re in deep shit.

The sound draws my eyes to its source. A man of almost imposing stature, with the iguana parrot perched on his shoulder, a captain’s hat on his head, holds the baby aloft by the back of his clothes. The imagery is rather amusing, but I find the situation anything but.

Should they decide to slit my throat, I could do nothing about it, even with one arm still free. Helplessness isn’t a state I’m used to.

The captain shakes the brat a little, as though he will stop his cries with further discomfort. The action makes me inexplicably angry. Too bad I’ll have to stew in it for a time. Before taking it out on the deserving ones. A severe frown pulls the corners of my mouth downwards. My own stint as a baby isn’t something I remember fondly, but at least I was never treated as though I weren’t precious cargo.

“Give- Ah!” Mai attempts to speak, but her captor yanks on her bindings to silence her. “Give me my brother!”

Her demand is met with a chuckle. The captain’s eyes roam over us captured, and the now retreating Fire Nation soldiers by the forest. Satisfaction rolls off of his posture.

“Good work, men! Now bring these young ladies aboard the ship!” His eyes linger on me, but he does not correct his statement.

The crew appears to find me feminine enough, because I’m the first one walked across the gangway. Vaguely, I wonder if I should feel offended, but insults of this kind don’t exactly bother me. Besides, even if I were very feminine-looking, I’d take it as a compliment that they think I’m pretty enough. Or something.

Onwards, into the belly of the ship, to where they have two prison cells that remind me far too much of old pirate films for me not to feel like this is all too surreal to be… real.

They are the picture image of romanticised notions of piracy – outwardly. I have to duck down low not to be made a head shorter because of the low ceiling.

It reminds me eerily of the time I went to visit that one large old restored battleship on holiday in my previous life. Funny how small things just resurface.

.

If I had anything to say about my current situation, it would be that it is self-made. Imprisoned in the bowels of a pirate vessel with inch-thick iron cast shackles around both ankles and wrists that I would have to saw at day and night to free myself from, pressed against damp wooden planks, I have plenty of reasons to reconsider my life-choices.

Usually, I wouldn’t be too worried.

However, I now have a child and three teenagers to be concerned about, all of whom I can well imagine being sold into slavery. Human trafficking isn’t as big a thing as it was in my old world, if only for lack of means and perhaps even demand in these wartimes, but it does happen.

Of course, it’s not as organised and wide-spread as it was in, for example, Lybia, but it is there, if you do take a look. Procuring a slave was and is far too simple, and it makes me shudder with disgust. Then again, most states of affairs to do with dealings below the law’s notice and common human mentalities do.

If it were only me, I’m fairly certain they would only either kill me or allow me free, once I promised them something of worth. Since I don’t respond well to punishment, and can heal myself, being sold would be unprofitable, long-term. Their contacts would spread the word that their merchandise isn’t of good quality. I would have to make these little facts known, but that’s easily done. It _isn’t_ just me, though, and I’m wondering whether the girl’s imprisonment might turn out to be more… humane if they _were_ to be sold.

Rape is not something I would wish on anyone, and all three of them are exceptionally pretty.

At this moment, however, I find them revolting. Circus Girl has slumped on my shoulder, is asleep and drooling a wet patch into my shirt. She also snores. Not only is it irritating, I wonder at her mental faculties.

She should not equate my shoulder with a nice place to rest her head on after everything I’ve done to her.

Mai seems to not have forgotten any of it as she glowers at me from five metres away. With her brother once more taken from her, gone along with the princess. Her cool and collected self seems to have vacated the continent for the time being. Perhaps she left it the safety of her bedroom walls.

As I attempt to ignore the puffs of breath against the wet patch on my skin, I take some tentative hope from the fact that they’ve left me with my mask. I can drink through it, and since they haven’t brought us any food yet I hope they already have a nearby port in mind for docking. (I’m sincerely avoiding any thoughts of purposeful starvation to make us weak and obedient.)

And, as I wriggle my fingers to get a feel for the locks of the shackles, so that with pressure at the right points I could unlock them and escape, I won’t let it come to any of the horrific scenarios mapping themselves out in my head.

It would be good, in any case, to think of something to barter with that won’t involve them wanting to keep me around for longer. So, no skills of mine, no knowledge of the branching kind. Nothing at all to suggest I could do more for them as a permanent fixture on this vessel.

That is, so long as Azula keeps her mouth shut. She’s a smart girl, but vindictive, and that’s a lethal combination. Femme Fatale, if ever I’ve known one.

I contemplate how to broach the subject of escape when the sound of footsteps makes its way to my ears from the steps.

The man who comes to speak with us, presumably to gauge whether we have any worth as hostages, as they gathered from Azula’s wanted poster that the Fire Nation undoubtedly spread out in every town and village they could find is relatively slim, but sinewy and looks rather sly. He only spares me, the tired-looking masked man-boy with a girl drooling on his shoulder, a brief glance, meant to provoke to find out whether I’m a hothead or not.

Instead of going for us, he sizes up Mai in a sleazy manner that makes my skin prickle.

She shifts into an even more defensive position.

“So, your friend tells us your father’s a higher-up in the Fire Nation. Governor of Omashu.” Mai nods cautiously. The man’s voice is grating, with a perpetual smugness saturating every syllable that I wonder whether he’s ever encountered anyone who managed to outsmart him. “Now, usually this would be perfect. Send a message, get the money, release you and your brother, everyone’s happy,” He steps closer to her, crouching down to sit on his haunches. “But since Omashu’s back in King Bumi’s hands… You see our problem, yeah? If you had any, ah, _ideas_ about who to ransom you back to, I’m sure your brother would be well cared-for until then, hm?”

Ah. Well, this doesn’t exactly bode well for me, does it? There’s no one who’d pay _my_ ransom, after all. Not in the ‘civilised’ world.

I’m seeing more and more parallels to British mentalities of superiority in times of the empire or when the commonwealth wasn’t as independent as they would’ve liked, commercially. But it does mean that all of the girls and the baby are relatively safe. That is, as safe as one can be, on a pirate vessel, in the company of a man with dubious moralities (so long as one discounts the pirates, of course).

Mai’s eyes dart around, thinking fast. With the recent re-conquering of Omashu, I’m sure her father’s fallen from grace. Any contacts she may have had at one point surely aren’t reliable any more. What Mai does have, is a known connection to Azula. It depends on whether she can get the pirates to agree to make them all seem like a package-deal. The pirates would, of course, be able to demand more for more hostages. If she plays that angle, she might buy us some time.

“Come now, I can see you have an idea, let’s hear it.”

In a way, the questioning of Azula was both the best and worst thing that could happen to us. She cares little for either Mai, nor Circus Girl at the moment, and even less for the brat. Me, she is certainly still angry with. Hers is a temper that burns hotly and at length. But as much as she desires for us to be punished, she is clever enough to go the way of least overall damage, because for once, it’s in her best interests to stick with the less powerful party. I’m sure that usually, she would manipulate the situation until she somehow had command over the pirates.

But there is me to worry about. And if there is anything Azula has learned during our time together, it’s that I dislike being ordered around, and am volatile enough to not always be trusted to do what’s in my own best interests.

Mai’s eyes land on me, finally. All I can do to help her out is glance at the top of Circus Girl’s head on my shoulder. Perhaps she can glean my meaning from that. I don’t know about Circus Girl’s family situation, and whether they would be wealthy enough to pay a ransom, but if Mai takes this as a sign that they’re all in the same boat, so to speak, she could well figure it out.

In addition to a sly glance, I flex my wrists. It looks only like I’m moving them to keep my hands circulated, but I’m sure she understands this, at least.

She must stall, and I can free us, probably.

“We… surely, if you contact a Fire Nation outpost for Azula’s… bounty, you could…”

As she hedges about, spews basic tactics for contacting the right people, mentioning vague details of this person’s gullibility and so on and so forth, I once more turn my attention to my shackles. It’s quite fortunate that the moon feels close currently, and the sun has set. It affords me some strength, and power of concentration necessary for the precision required. Perhaps Yue is looking down on us with favourable eyes.

The pirate doesn’t appear to have heard the quiet _snick_ s as the bolts slide into place. Mai is doing a wonderful job of keeping him distracted. For someone usually so quiet, she’s good at this. Practise from her time with Azula?

Circus Girl’s neck tenses by degrees, and I infer that she’s woken and is following the proceedings closely. It’s a stroke of luck I appreciate.

Both of the shackles around my ankles are now ready to spring open at the slightest tug. With hopes that she feels less stiff than I do, I move on to her shackles, instead of opening the ones on my wrists. I can bend with minimal movement of my hands, after all. Better she employs her fighting style to the fullest and gives me time.

I determine that, depending on the pirate’s next course of action – be it leaving, or moving on to question us – we will either allow him back on deck, or subdue him to question _him_ about our whereabouts, Azula and the brat’s health, how many crew members there are, and so forth. I only hope the girls have the foresight to wait and see.

It’s got to be a new experience for them, but they’re both conducting themselves well. Not, that I’ve ever been held captive by pirates, myself.

Circus Girl’s shackles open with slightly more noise than mine, and by the third, the pirate has turned around, suspicions plainly on his face. My control is minimally lesser the further I bend from my body. It makes all the difference.

He’s smart enough to put his hands on his weapons, but not to raise the alarm as I’d have done. Better a false one than dead, and he’s already suspecting he’s no longer safe.

Then again, I don’t plan on killing him at all. But my plans have a habit of derailing, and fast.

The fourth lock _snick_ s.

“What’re ye doing?” He goes to check on my shackles.

Circus Girl is ready for it. The man is laid out flat on his face almost too quickly for me to follow. I’m beginning to think that the only reason for my continuous winning of our confrontations is that she was never able to get close enough to do any damage.

She’s still sitting beside me. Almost wearily, I glance at her, to find her staring.

Her fists are clenched tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. Oh-oh.

I barely manage to direct my blood to the surface of my skin to soften any blows before she smiles sweetly, and it’s the last thing I see.

_Mai,_

She didn’t think Ty Lee would make the most infuriating person Mai ever met fall unconscious. Really, she expects her friend to react more rationally than that, considering their situation. But she can’t honestly fault her. Mai, too, has been itching to get one over him for that disappearing act with her little brother.

Ty Lee was hurt by him, severely, controlled and disregarded as unimportant. It’s natural that she’d want to take a bit of revenge.

Mai only half-wishes she’d chosen another time for it. It’s clear that he’s good at getting out of hairy situations more or less intact, and his earlier non-verbal bid for stalling gave her hopes for escape.

While Mai is lost in thought, Ty Lee searches the two men, finding no keys on the pirate for Mai’s shackles, and only an assortment of trinkets on the waterbender. They consist of a charcoal sketch of a young woman, paper yellowed with age, and several animal teeth, looking to be distinctly sharp and dangerous in nature.

“Can you pick the locks?” Ty Lee asks, considering one of the larger ones critically. Her voice scrapes over Mai’s ears, and she’s once more surprised that she could forget about its condition at all. No longer does her sweet friend sound as chipper as she usually is, but instead more menacing than anything else. Especially when she’s genuinely cheerful.

“No,” is Mai’s flat answer, “Not of this calibre.” Or she’d have done it by now. She still has her hairpins.

It makes her think of just how precicely he must be able to bend for him to free Ty Lee. She recalls that he was also the one to get the better of Azula when she’d still been fifteen. The more she thinks about it, the more she feels that their chances of successful escape stand best with him awake and on their side.

“How long until he wakes up?”

Ty Lee looks thoughtful, “I didn’t hit him hard. An hour, at most. Why?”

“Because we might need him in a fight.”

“Oh please, Azula-“

Mai watches realisation dawn on her friend’s face. Not to mention, one of them might be handicapped carrying Tom-Tom. Coming to think of it, the waterbender never seemed impaired fighting with his burden. A small voice of cynicism whispers to her that there’s a reason he thought he’d get away with not honouring their agreement.

“You’re going to have to find the keys and unshackle me, and fast. That one’s been down here with us for too long already,” Mai decides, squashing the voice viciously.

Ty Lee, looking almost glad that someone is telling her what to do with no small amount of pressure, nods and slips into the darkness beyond the small oil lamp the pirate brought with him.

Mai sits, and thinks for the while it’ll take for Ty Lee to return.

Once she’s free, they will have to locate her brother, and perhaps Azula, although Mai isn’t entirely happy with the prospect – and isn’t it strange that she has less of a problem with the idea of cooperating with the waterbender than the princess. Then they will have to determine their location and wither take over the ship – for which they will definitely need the waterbender –, or leave it to swim to shore and attempt to contact the Fire Nation, for which he could also be very helpful.

By now, her parents will at least know of what has transpired, but with Omashu back under Earthkingdom control, she isn’t certain they have the means to _do_ anything with their knowledge. She’s not sure the news of Azula’s escape has reached the Firelord yet, but if it has, this new turn of events will lead him to question her capability. And sanity.

If Mai knows anything about Firelord Ozai and his expectations of Azula, it’s that she does not fail. In his mind, his daughter will triumph, and if she can’t, well, that’s too bad. Before now, Azula’s been comfortable in her position as his favourite, since her brother was the failure of the family. In Mai’s opinion a kind heart is hardly a failure, but that seems to be just her. Azula’s difficulty with bending will gnaw at her, until she snaps, like she did just before the pirates arrived.

At the time, it was only the waterbender’s swift seizing of Ty Lee’s body that saved her. If anything, when he wakes, Mai feels that there should be a blank slate between them.

For her and him, though, it’s more complicated. While he returned her brother, it was only after she and Ty Lee had chased after them for weeks, knowing fully well that they abandoned part of their duties to their country in doing so. Their actions can be justified with Azula being their main priority, and them having the best chances of persuading her to return home with them. Yet, Mai knew with certainty that she went for her brother.

Funny how before all of this, before that cursed city, he was more of a nuisance and an object of both pity and envy.

She’s torn from her thoughts by a pained groan.

Eyes searching the waterbender’s face, or what she can see of it, with that mask still on, she finds nothing that indicates wakefulness, and the pain she heard. Cold settles across her shoulders and throat. The pirate.

Ty Lee’s not taken his weapons. She doesn’t need them, after all, but Mai could curse her friend. That’s an amateur mistake! And Mai forgot about trussing him up, too, just sent Ty Lee to free her without thinking!

They lie there, just by the waterbender’s feet, glinting, laughing at her.

If he wakes and raises the alarm, their chances of escape are greatly reduced. Scrambling for purchase, Mai attempts to reach him, and whack him over the head, to ensure his silence.

No matter how she contorts herself, she can’t reach him.

Her shackles prevent it.

Hissing profanities under her breath, Mai thinks furiously, eyes flitting about. The waterbender won’t wake for some time, but he’s close enough to the pirate, that he could do what Mai can’t. What can Mai use?

She looks, and looks, oh Firelord…

Another groan. Shit!

The teeth. The shark teeth are right there – she stretches awkwardly once more, gathers a couple into her palm.

She needs to wake the waterbender. Acting on instinct, Mai sends them both flying.

Damn it all! She forgot to account for their weight! She’s used to handling metal, not bone, and the teeth only scrape one cheek, drawing blood through the thin material of the mask. They must be extremely sharp. She feels blood on the skin of her palms.

The pirate sits up, a hand on his face, on which he fell when Ty Lee took him out.

“What the buggering fuck?” he asks no one in particular, and Mai feels hysterical laughter bubble up her throat.

It takes all she has to keep it in.

His eyes flicker about, take in the scene. His mouth opens, and Mai wishes she still had one of the teeth to lodge in his tongue, even if it would produce the same effect of his shout to warn the other pirates.

The noise just rises to his throat when he jerks and cuts off. His eyes bulge, hands going to his throat, choking.

If Mai ever had the desire to see someone choke on their own spit, it’s forever gone now.

_Kaito,_

Waking to a sting on my cheek, a panicking girl, and a pirate about to raise alarm, is not how I wanted my day to go. Or night, as it were, since it’s far too easy to silence the man with his own spit.

That that’s the first thing I think of to cut off noise coming from throats is mildly concerning.

When finally he slumps to the ground, unconscious or dead, I raise my eyes to meet Mai’s. She looks disgusted, slightly afraid and relieved at the same time.

For all that she’s spent her childhood in the company of Azula, she’s not been up close to someone truly struggling for their life. Me, I’ve just gone numb to it by now, all the while aware that it’s not the usual reaction, not the one a _healthy_ individual would have. But I’ve come to the conclusion that slight insanity, or dissociation, will keep me functioning however I need myself to.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, and it startles her so much her mouth does a funny little twitch.

She shakes her head, even as she looks down at her bloodied palm. Not seriously, then. But I want to take a look anyway.

The shackles around my wrists hold me in place. I sigh. Should’ve trusted myself. Relied on myself.

“Circus Girl’s gone for the keys?” I wonder whether I should bother with the rest of our shackles, then. Conserving my energy could be wise.

Mai nods, still mute, and I see none of her pervious anger. Concerning. But there is a limit to how much trauma a person can withstand in just one day. Or night, as it were.

Frowning, I think that I have no idea how well Circus Girl does with stealth. How well the pirates can detect someone sneaking around on their ship. Quite surely, I’d imagine.

I sigh. Concentrate. Get to work.

It takes longer than I would like. My control slips in just the wrong moments for the bolts to shift sometimes, and others the water just doesn’t seem to like the density I’m forcing it into taking, for the metal to shift at all.

But, after some long minutes, I manage.

I get up slowly, allow the blood to circulate properly after sitting these long hours in the same position. Checking on the pirate, I realise he’s still alive. Well. I have some very nice shackles lying around here, it’d be a shame to waste them.

Mai watches with some satisfaction.

Then, regarding my work, I see the teeth I keep in my pockets for mostly sentimental reasons strewn about on the ground. Circus Girl must’ve gone through my pockets to find something useful. There lies Hahn’s mother’s picture. He had her eyes. They always made him seem to look down on people, but with her, all they do is regard you very closely. I never met her. But I’m grateful to her for giving me a friend like Hahn. (And guilty.)

With careful fingers that I wipe of any staining substances, I fold the paper along its creases and tuck it back into my tunic. Then I gather the teeth one by one and tuck them back into my pockets. Lastly, I take up the long dagger and short sword. Not the finest quality, either of them, but sufficient. Best of all, I know how to use them.

Mai shifts when I turn my attention to her and her shackles.

After the last fiasco of freeing one of the girls, I think I should wrangle some sort of promise from her. But with me not having, er, honoured our agreement, I’m not sure how much she thinks her promises to me should weigh.

I think for a moment. “We need each other to get out of this alive,” I state, and wait for her nod.

It’s only a short jerk of her head, but it’s enough, and we’re in agreement.

I kneel before her, take her bleeding hand and heal her with more ease than with opening my shackles. I also find some reddening on her wrists, where she must have struggled against the shackles. I decide to heal the skin, as well, just in case her aim is off if she feels pain in her wrists. As soon as I let her hand go, she wipes it clean and inspects it. A thin pink line is all that remains of the cut, and there is nothing to see on her wrists.

Next are the shackles on her ankles.

It takes far too long. The one on her right foot pops open. Dear Spirits, three more and I’m more than ready to take a day long nap.

Once more, there are boots coming down the steps. She freezes, and I only now realise how much she relaxed.

Silently, and as quickly as I dare, I move to the entrance, dagger and sword in hand.

It’s another pirate, and he’s cautious, but a sharp tug on his knee, and he’s falling.

Catching him just enough to prevent noise, my dagger is at his throat. “Look over there,” I tell him, and he sees his crewmate in shackles. “He’s still alive. If you do as I say, you’ll be too.”

He nods.

“Now, have you captured the other girl again?”

Another nod. He could be lying, but I don’t think so.

“You’ll shout now, and shout to your friends that we’ve all escaped, and shackled whatever his name is. That you think we’ve gone for a swim since you haven’t seen us on deck.”

He opens his mouth. Before he can release a sound, I press the dagger more firmly to his neck. “And remember that one wrong word earns you a cut throat.”

He shivers under my hands, Does as he’s told.

“Much obliged,” And with a sharp knock of the sword’s hilt to the back of his neck, he’s out, too.

He gets the same treatment as his friend, and is stripped of his possessions. Multiple blades hidden all over his body, no keys. They were too much to hope for in the first place.

I get back to Mai’s shackles.

“I expect they’ll be waiting for us on deck,” I tell her once her other foot is free, and she nods.

I don’t think I like her this silent.

The third shackle opens. “They’ve both the princess and your friend, probably knocked out, so it’ll be just us against the entire crew. They’ll threaten their lives to force our compliance. We will have to free them first, and then manage to protect them and your brother.”

She nods.

With the fourth, I offer my hand to get her upright, and to my surprise she takes it. She also gathers up the knives from the pile I made. Right, she mostly fights with stilettos and small projectiles.

I decide to inform her of my capabilities. She will need to know. “I can probably give us about half a minute to free the others. It’ll be the same thing you saw with him.”

Her lips thin as she nods.


	14. Uneasy Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Warnings: objectifying language, Violence.]

“No damaging the merchandise!”

Azula is being held above her knees by her hair. She is unable to gain purchase on the ground due to her unfortunate shackling. Her pain is evident, but she makes no noise. Stubborn. But you never know when some sadistic fuck wants more than just noises out of you until it’s far too late.

Beside the amnesiac princess, Circus Girl is in a similar position. She has no qualms about whimpering. Pride only goes so far for her.

The noise, even though it comes from her who was very much malicious towards me not too long ago, is cause for the emergence of some small amount of anger on her behalf. We all have our lapses in judgement, I suppose.

The brat is… in a young boy’s arms. Looks like even pirates have cabin boys. Or was it especially them? I wonder if he was kidnapped or ran away.

Between the girls and Mai and I are five pirates, three of whom are obviously injured, two of whom are holding the girls up by their hair. Behind them stands the cabin boy.

“Aw, c’mon Gorou, you never let me have any fun!”

The first speaker, Gorou, looks at him sharply. “For good reason. We only want our money, not a permanent manhunt out for our heads. If you want your fun, try the next port and pay for it out of your own pocket.”

Smart. He’s not the captain, but the first mate, I’d wager. His arm is bandaged heavily. Despite that, I’m sure he’s a terrifying opponent. He’s that earthbender who took on two _or three?_ firebenders a few hours ago.

I’ve never gone up against a competent earthbender, and I don’t want to, either. On a ship, I have much of an advantage, but he’s a pirate and lives on it. He’s bound to have a few tricks up his bandages.

When you know what Toph can do, all earthbenders become intimidating by proxy.

Both Azula and Circus Girl are released at Gorou’s words, and dropped to the ground. One cries out, while the other clenches her jaw with a furious look on her face.

The pirate who wanted some… fun, and his friend move to stomp off, but Gorou stops them again. “Stay where you are. Kenji and Nobu have been gone for too long.”

It’s now or never. We’ll never get a better opportunity. If anything, Gorou delivered us the perfect queue. One glance is shared between us, and Mai and I ready ourselves for the coming fight.

I concentrate once more, take deep breaths, and stretch my senses. Five standing in front of us, two further to the bow, four more above us, by the stern.

All of them need to choke on their spit.

Not only for practical reasons, but also for what they’ve done, what they plan to do, what they want to do and most of all, because they deserve it.

I spread my arms, my fingers, twist my wrists and yank hard, closing my fists. Immediately, their hands go to their throats.

Mai moves. Her knives glint in the moonlight, her hair streams behind her as she rushes to her brother, takes him from the cabin boy’s startled arms, and kicks him squarely in the chest.

My control strains, and I know I have a choice. Kill them all, or allow them to fight.

If I do, I’ll have killed them all.

If I don’t, there’s a chance they could kill or heavily injure any one of us.

I don’t know why. I have no clue why the girls rank so much higher in my mind, lives are lives and should never be taken lightly. But they do. (They do, because I’ve seen them struggle for each other. Because I have met them, and gained some understanding and insight, they are no longer abstract concepts of people to me, they are individuals. To a degree, I _know_ them.)

I decide to gamble anyway. One last, hard yank to all of their throats, in particular Gorou’s and I let go.

Just because _I_ value them more than I do the pirates does not mean that the pirates do not also deserve to live. And, if I made the decision to end their lives based on moral compasses and likability I’d have to slit my own throat along with theirs. (To live is to kill, but you don’t need to be excessive about it.)

They haven’t touched anyone of mine, yet. None of the girls, or even the brat, are mine. If they had, every single one of these fuckers would be dead. (But mine are dead already, and so, I will never have to kill for vengeance again.)

Sagging against the doorframe, I see that three are still suspended on the ground, while Gorou is already struggling to his knees, along with another. It seems even that extra bit of pain wasn’t enough to keep him down. Well, I certainly hope Mai can deal with whatever he’s got for her, because above me, I hear choking noises, hacking and coughing.

Mai has delivered her brother into Azula’s arms for her to cut Circus Girl’s rope bindings. The princess is shackled as we were. We’ll have to locate those keys.

Taking deep breaths, thankful for the reprieve while the pirates gather themselves, I ready myself for some precision bending. Exerting control over the water around the ship, I gather enough for plenty of water whips for each of them. They slither up the sides of the ship, over the deck, and gather in puddles where I want them.

I’m banking on the fact that they’re still distracted, and in pain.

I’ve not used this trick since a particularly gruelling spar with Pakku. Controlling water not attached to yourself is immensely hard and requires perfect control. I don’t have the stamina for it at the moment, so I do the next best thing. A thin thread-like tendril of water attached to my skin wherever it reaches allows me to use the whips individually, so long as I can imagine it, and exert my will over so many.

I manage only five tonight. The rest I must leave to the girls.

Taking a step outside, I launch myself upwards, onto the upper deck of the stern. My attack is swift, and effective. Two go immediately over board.

The captain and another remain. It’s the man with the chain.

Ah, sweet revenge. On the back of my tongue, I taste vanilla ice cream.

He’s good. Even without being able to breathe properly, bruised throat and all, he wields his chain expertly. His captain’s waiting, sabres drawn.

Thing is, my opponent only has one chain. I’ve got three whips and the moon on my side. Not a fair fight. He too goes over the railing, and only the captain is left.

Against this man, for ordering our capture, I use no whip. The water will slice if it hits.

Violence, I realise, is a very real addiction for me.

I’m not sure I care.

His arms are soon cut to meaty shreds, and the look on his face is one I’ve seen before. It’s the realisation that, against a proficient bender, the usual fare of steel with a sharp edge isn’t enough.

I wonder, considering the state of his arms, bloody fingers barely clinging to his weapons whether it would be a mercy to end it now. Kill him. Chances are he’ll never get to move them properly again. But who am I to decide whether he might like to live anyway?

I’m not his judge. And taking more lives really doesn’t sit well with me.

Him I leave on board. He can’t swim with those arms, and who is to say that his crew will save him from drowning? No, I bend him to the planks of his own ship.

Turning, I see what Mai is up against. That earthbender uses two discs that look like frisbees to keep her on the defensive and herd her towards the stern. They spin at a velocity that he controls to widen or sharpen their arcs of flight. Mai is dodging them rather well, considering she has to look out for the other pirates behind her.

Circus Girl is locked in a hand-to-hand battle with the other pirate, and gaining a bit of ground.

Mai clearly needs a bit of help.

The lovely thing about the moon is that it gives me strength.

The strength to concentrate. To use precision enough to destroy the discs, and the next two, too. The ability to knock him out fully, this time. Circus Girl uses the distraction Gorou’s defeat provides and delivers a jab to the side her opponent’s throat that leaves him unconscious on his feet. He lands on his face. I half hope that his nose is broken.

Our eyes meet. An expression of fear crosses her features, and had I not had the opportunity to take my anger out on several pirates whom I assume tp be human traffickers, her fear would be rightly placed. As it is now, I care little for her emotions. I do not think that they will be relevant to me for much longer.

My eyes shift to regard Azula, who is cowering defensively beside the cabin boy, brat clutched tightly in her fingers. Even without proper control of her bending, she has never been this vulnerable before. Chained and unable to fight to rely on individuals she’s pissed off royally. I do not find it within myself to worry.

Currently, she matters to me insofar that I made her a promise and that, given her recent experiences, she could prove to become an ally against her father. But for that, the man himself must condemn her, exile her as he has her brother, and as of now, I see no likelihood of that happening any time soon. After all, with her mind still this young she would prove especially malleable to him and his manipulations.

However, the same could be said for me. If I can manage to gain her trust, and care, she might prove to be a worthwhile ally. This can only happen if I genuinely desire her to be on our side. If I care for her in turn.

I do not think I do. Cannot. I have become cautious whom I allow myself to feel anything but detachment for. That it is possible at all, is testament to how hard she is to like. I miss Aang’s easy affection. Sokka’s quick wit. Even Katara’s intense dislike towards me.

I am more concerned for the child in Azula’s hands than her.

Circus Girl, however, already loves her. But she is unlikely to ever be on _my_ side. So, even as I move to search Gorou for the keys to Azula’s shackles, I give up on the idea of her fighting by my side. I release the thought of her as anything other than a Fire Nation princess. Too much hangs in the balance. And it is not only my life I am worried by now.

The brat in her arms is another story. His loyalties are the ones I must determine. Whether he can stomach what has happened here, and worse. Because if he cannot, my hopes of finding an equal, and someone to understand me, are futile.

It’s an odd thing, hoping to find bloodlust in a child.

Child, though, he might not be. Then again, his situation may be very different from my own. He might not have lived as an adult. Instead, died young. If that is the case, he could very well be far worse off than I.

While both traumatised, broken beyond repair, I function.

But it is of no use to dwell. I cannot know until we have spoken.

My fingers find the keys on Gorou in a hidden pouch on the inside of his belt.

Azula is wary at my approach. Her grip on the child tightens. He makes a noise of protest.

Before I unlock her shackles, I pry him from her fingers, and hand him off to Mai, who has appeared at my shoulder. She takes him hastily, checks him over for injuries. Judging by her relieved sigh, there are none.

As the key slots into the lock of Azula’s wrist’s shackle our eyes meet once more. This close I can see there is still panic in hers. Her body is coiled like a particularly pyromaniac spring.

“Just me,” I tell her, and I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because even I don’t wish for her to have been molested.

Something shifts in her expression. I can’t tell if it’s contempt, or distaste. It might be both. Azula has never been modest about her emotions.

She rubs her wrists as they come free, reddened, but not so badly that I feel it would be prudent to heal them. She frowns at me, just a tick of her brows and the corners of her mouth. My face is blank and bored-looking in response. I’ve come to realise that indifference hurts better than any show of condescension.

I sigh and unlock the last shackles. Immediately she attempts to stand. Her knees give out beneath her before she’s risen to half her height.

“Were you…” I trail off once I hear my own voice in my usual monotone, at odds with what I want to ask her. Then, realising that it doesn’t matter now, except for how she would need to be handled differently, and perhaps healed which I feel she would not enjoy, I continue. “Did they touch you?”

Her eyes narrow further, and her mouth twists into a snarl. “What do you think?”

I look at her carefully. Her clothes are… they look alright. Not like someone attempted to get through the layers. And Gorou did say not to damage the merchandise.

I lift my brows. “…Not, then?”

“As if they would _dare_ ,” she hisses.

I glance at the pirates, all of them either knocked out or too wounded to move. They would. I’m fairly sure. That she is a princess is the opposite of a deterrent.

My half-lidded stare as I offer her a hand to stand conveys my thoughts, and even as she takes it, leaning heavily on me to steady herself as she forces her legs to cooperate, her mouth quivers until she presses it into a thin white line. Most of her weight is on my arm now, and I notice that not only she is at the end of her rope. But there are things that need doing.

“The chains from below,” I say to Mai over my shoulder, and elaborate at her confused look, “We’ll chain these…” I consider my range of insults, and settle on the most simple thing I could call them, “Pirates up for interrogation. There seem to be enough shackles to go around.”

She goes to retrieve them, brother still in her arms. We’ll need to feed him soon, along with ourselves. I do hope their kitchen is stocked.

Hands clasped, Azula and I shuffle towards the railing. It’s awkward, having to balance for another person who is generally unwilling to even touch, and even worse when it comes to relying on someone else. We’re both glad to let go of each other.

With exhaustion in the forefront of my mind, I return to an old and worn habit from my past life. A to-do list.

Item one: free the girls has already been accomplished.

Item two: chain up the bad men – myself excluded –, in process.

Item three: check our course, where the pirates I threw overboard are, and prepare and adjust accordingly.

Item four: feed everyone important.

Item five: interrogations. I want to know where we are, exactly; how far the next large trading hub is; what the best route to Ba Sing Se is; how they intended to contact the Fire Nation and cache in the ransom or reward without being incarcerated themselves; what they know about the war, what the word is on the Avatar’s return; and who I need to fuck over to get access to the Dai Li – although that last one is just in the eventuality that they know some people in Ba Sing Se.

Item six: decide what I want to do with the pirates, and find out what the girls’ plans are. They will hardly continue travelling and hunting the Avatar together, unless I have them pegged entirely wrong. Azula has lost their loyalty and they have lost her trust.

Item seven: rest in a situation where I won’t have my throat slit.

As I compose this list in my head, Circus Girl is already searching the bodies for weapons and other useful things. The motions seem practised to me, and I wonder vaguely if she picked up some bad habits from her time as a gypsy.

She looks up at me suddenly, as if sensing my judgement of her. One of her hands is still stuck down the front of a man’s tunic, and she crouches over him like a proper scavenger, ready to bolt at any second. Her stare is apprehensive, and somehow stubborn.

I decide to mess with her a little. I smile, allow my eyes to crinkle so that she can see it even as I still wear my mask.

Thoroughly weirded out, she goes back to concentrating on her task.

With the sound of metal clinking together Mai emerges from the bowels of the ship. Her brother sits on her shoulders as she drags what must be about her weight in shackles behind her. Circus Girl immediately goes to help her.

I think they have this well enough in hand, and Mai will hardly make another blunder as the one that I had to correct. So I wander back up the stern, to the steering wheel, and where I left the shredded captain.

The wet sound of his breathing is slightly revolting, and I realise that he’s dying. With the amount of blood on the planks, pooling there instead of dripping down into the gaps the ship must have been recently oiled and lacquered, he doesn’t have long. Well, I suppose I need him for interrogation later.

The first step is to confirm the gravest wounds, and where to get some of his blood back into his body. I’ve done it before, after all, with one of my tribe. I know the procedure well, had to write a detailed report for Yugoda. At the same time, I need to keep the blood from clotting.

With great effort, I draw strength from the water that surrounds us, and the moon – Yue, thank you, I suppose, hope you’re not watching me too often and instead keeping an eye on Sokka. As I lay a hand on his chest, and feel the flow of his blood, and where the most of it is still exiting his body, I gather some of the blood by my knees and begin the infusion.

Once I have a stable flow going, I begin to close some of the blood vessels, so that my work here won’t come undone.

I don’t heal him completely. He still won’t have use of his arms. But he won’t die. So easily.

With him mostly stable again, I stand, and check on the other pirate still on the stern. He’s unconscious. Alright, then. That’s something.

Checking our course, I look past the large sails, and realise the ship is quite large. It has to be, with holding cells, but it also means that this river is likely to spill into the sea, since the farther upstream it heads, the less likely it is to be able to continue on. If I have the map I got from General Fong in my head correctly, that means we’re not too far off from Lao Ling, that Azula and I passed by on our great escape. Perhaps the captain has a map in his cabins, and preferably a nautical one that I could consult. I wonder if my knowledge on those is still up to speed. At the moment, we’re going downstream at about six knots. I see no end to the river yet, so we’ll be fine on this course for the time being.

I will have to station one of the girls here, though, to look out for obstacles, and other ships.

Do we hiss a flag? Where would they keep them? Perhaps in the captain’s cabin, or the first mate’s. We’ll have to search those.

The girls – women, now – are done chaining up the pirates, and there are even some left for the captain and his friend beside me. How fortunate. The fact that there are enough shackles aboard the ship to chain every single one of the crew reinforces my belief that we are dealing with quite the deplorable sort of high-risk traders.

Circus Girl comes to truss them up. It seems there is an uneasy truce between us now, probably thanks to Mai and a few imploring words. I wonder how Azula will fit into this. I don’t imagine she’ll deliberately cause trouble, now. But once the situation changes, and she is able to turn it to her advantage, she’s a wild card.

“You don’t, by any chance, know where the galley is?” I ask when she’s done.

She nods, “Yes. I knocked out the cook before I was caught.” She scowls.

“Alright,” I nod at her, and turn to Mai to shout, “Would you come up here and hold the course?”

She does, and Azula watches her, still leaning against the railing. Mai takes the steering wheel from my hands, “Alert us if you see another ship coming.”

Her nod is enough for me to gesture to Circus Girl to lead the way. She does.

The galley is surprisingly large, and somehow I’m beginning to think the ship is larger on the inside. How did pirates come by such a gem?

The cook is still face-down where Circus Girl must have left him. We secure him with a piece of rope she has on her.

There is still a large pot of some kind of stew simmering on low heat. Lucky.

“Let’s carry it on deck, and have everyone eat,” I suggest, and once more, she only nods.

Together, we heave it out the door, and up the few steps to deck. She returns to the galley for bowls, unprompted, and I check on our prisoners. Some are awake, but none speak, which I find odd. Some might not because of sore throats, and others because they’re not the mouthy types. But all of them? Perhaps they’ve decided to politely wait until interrogations?

With a sigh, I return to where Circus Girl is waiting with the bowls. We fill one, wordlessly, and I turn to the pirates.

Aware of the eyes on me, I am almost gentle in tugging the strap of leather from between one pirate’s teeth, and tilting his head back so that I might pour some soup down his throat for testing. He does not protest, and it gives me some hope that the food was not poisoned. Nonetheless, I’ve not survived this long by being unnecessarily reckless when it comes to my food-intake, and I wait for long enough to be certain that he’s not experiencing any discomforts beside his shackles.

To be sure, I rest a hand against his stomach and feel for any disturbances like I was taught as a boy, and wait. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Well, then. I wait another few minutes, to be sure, and then give Circus Girl a nod. She distributes the stew evenly, hands me two bowls, and takes another two up to Mai. It seems I’ve been put in charge of the princess’ food intake. I carry our portions over, hand her hers, and proceed to mostly ignore her in favour of the crew.

Slurping my spoonful loudly, I look at them. They seem awfully complacent.

Are they, perchance, in league with other pirates? Ones that will attempt to free them? There seem to be large sums of money involved in this business. Are they certain that a certain Earthbender will free them? I should have Circus Girl block his chi if she hasn’t already.

“Do you know if Circus Girl has blocked the bender’s chi?” I ask Azula. She swallows her mouthful, thinks for a moment, and shakes her head. Right. I’ll have to speak with her, then.

I finish my stew, and climb to the stern once more.

The two women’s voices trail off as I come into view, and I’m treated to two apprehensive stares, and the brat stretching his chubby arms out towards me. Slowly, I move closer, and check on the captain on my way there. He’s tense, but seems stable, for now.

“May I?” I stretch my hands out to take the brat from Mai, and with a deeply suspicious nod, she hands him over.

Immediately, he fists the material of my shirt. “ _Yes, don’t be so impatient. I know exactly what it feels like, being unable to do anything._ ”

“What is that language?” Mai questions, voice taut.

I give her a long look over the brat’s tuft of hair. “It’s spoken in a land far, far off. You will likely never see it.”

“How do _you_ know it?” Circus Girl asks, voice rough, reminding me of what kind of person I am. Does it matter if I answer their questions with vague statements? Or is it better to not answer at all?

“I intend to make contact with the Spirit World and find my own answers. You will have to wait to know until then.”

“Spirit World…” Circus Girl repeats, a touch distastefully.

“Mhm. On the topic of bending, did you perhaps block the bender’s chi?”

She flinches. A guilty expression crosses her features, and she stands wordlessly to go block the man’s chi.

Mai watches her friend go, and looks at me again. “Could you have asked that differently?”

“Tactfully, you mean?”

She nods.

“Tact is silence. If I were unfailingly tactful, I’d have sewn my mouth shut long ago and it serves no purpose now. You know by now that I don’t care for it, or other conventions. And while we’re on that,” I get up, “I will go and search through other people’s belongings now.”

She can be glad I didn’t say that last part in front of Circus Girl. It might have hurt feelings…

.

The captain’s cabin is rather roomy, with a desk, and a proper bed, even if it is for only one person. It even has a small wardrobe. How convenient. I think I might see if some of his clothes fit me.

I put the brat down on the pillow, and he goes without complaint, flopping onto his back with a huge sigh. He looks comical that way, spread eagled, and done.

With a new white tunic, and too-short cloth trousers I look the part of a pirate, and with my natural darker skin tone, no one will think I don’t usually show much skin. The mask… I leave off for now. I’m glad to be rid of it for the moment. It will have to go back on soon enough.

Well, then.

Unto the man’s intellectual life.

He’s not very exciting, for a pirate. His taste in novels isn’t very adventurous, and his choice in treasures is unsurprisingly a chest of gold pieces.

Not, that I don’t appreciate those. I really do. I go about finding a pouch that I can fill with some coins, just in case. As you do.

It’s while I’m pouring over the map he’s spread over his small table that the door swings open, and Mai joins me. Surprised I move to accommodate her. “We passed by Lao Ling just four days ago,” I tap it with my forefinger. “I imagine we’re somewhere here. If we have an eye on the twists and turns of the river, we might pinpoint exactly where.”

She nods. “Yes. How many supplies are there?”

“If only we eat, we’re fine for a month. If we feed the crew, a week at most. I don’t think they made port recently to stock up food.”

A frown and she narrows her eyes at the map. Then she taps it just where the river spills into the sea. “There is a Fire Nation outpost here. We should…”

She trails off uncertainly, and looks at me again, realising my change of attire.

“Well. If you promise not to turn me over to your authorities,” I smile at her surprised raise of eyebrows.

“You’d trust us not to?”

“Azula? No. Circus girl? Not sure. You? Yes.”

“What?”

“You were indignant I’d broken our agreement. And you don’t seem like you would forsake principles to pay someone back for a slight in turn.”

She’s silent, thinking it over.

“Besides, I want to be able to sleep at some point, without worrying about slit throats, or tied limbs. Don’t you?”

Mai nods, cautiously.

“So, then. We don’t do any of those things to each other, and agree not to deliver each other to anyone’s authorities.”

“I… alright,” we shake on it, “Which would be yours?”

I chuckle, “There is resistance everywhere. Someone will want to take you to Ba Sing Se, if I don’t. So, unless you know you’re going to meet your Fire Nation friends, I suggest finding some other clothing as well.”

She looks at herself, then. Tired, rumpled, dirty, Fire Nation noble. And grimaces.

“You might find something in that chest there, or some flags.”

She goes to look. Indeed, more clothing, and some of it decidedly feminine. So, then.

.

I leave the cabin, and her and the brat behind to begin interrogations.

Circus Girl is at the steering wheel.

“Do you want to stay for this?” I gesture at the captain, and she seems to understand.

She leaves.

“Hmm,” I say, as I look at the man – my victim – and study his flinch. He’s very close to death. But not enough that it wouldn’t be easy enough for me to heal him. He’s aware that my hands could be his salvation. He looks like he has the will to survive.

Mai tried to soften him up earlier, with some food and niceties. He gave her information we already had, such as our location. What I need to know is exactly how to avoid Fire Nation troops and which flags to hiss when. Which ports I can go unrecognised.

“Alright,” I tell him after a long, drawn out silence. I smile an eye-crinkling smile at him that serves me well as he cringes away as best he can. “I’m a very patient man,” I heal his face so he’s better to read, and he’s both relieved and weary.

I would be, too if someone smiled at me like that with clear intentions of causing harm.

I’ll be using that in the hopes of not having to actually hurt him more than I already have.

“That means,” I take a knife to shallowly, casually cut his cheek, just slightly below and to the side of his eye. It feels like making the incision to remove a poorly healed wound’s foreign object beneath the skin. Of course, he is a human, and I have never actually cut something to see if it will bleed. In this case, there isn’t much blood left in him to rush to the wound, but the thin line of red is beginning to fill with it. “That I don’t mind asking you what I want to know over and over,” I add another, just below the first, and some of the blood drips from the first cut to the second.

Deliberately, I clot the wounds. It almost feels like I am manipulating water now, instead of blood. As if the blood itself recognised me as the one to bring it back into the body it belongs to.

His eyes are narrowed, pinched, really, and I doubt the first of his answers will be truthful.

But we have nothing but time, he and I.

“For every answer you give me, I will heal some of your wounds. How do you like that? You could use your arms again,” I poke a finger to a piece of undamaged skin on his elbow.

He grits his teeth against the pain.

I doubt he’s ever been tortured.

So it’s a first to go around.

“Hmm?” I ask, prodding the same spot again. With a jerk, he nods, showing me his teeth in a grimace.

“Lovely,” I heal a cut on his shoulder that runs deeply. Fibre knits together under my hands, and new, fresh pink skin lines his bronze arm.

“So,” I drag over the map I found in his cabin, “Where precisely were we when we took over your ship?”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I’m looking to rewrite all of the story. If anyone is interested in betaing for me, please send me a message!
> 
> In any case, I hope the chapter is well-received, and please review – even if it isn’t. Perhaps especially if it isn’t.]


	15. Port

It dragged on.

When I'm done getting the answers to all my questions and more, I take special care to slice the healed tendons in the man's legs partway. He won't ever use them properly again. I may have decreed myself not-his-judge, and so I acknowledge that this is only my own desire for cruelty, that – even as I realise he may have embellished his tale, for whatever reasons – with every step he takes he will be reminded. (Reminded perhaps not always of what he’s done. Or who he’s hurt. But certainly of me. This is where I begin to have to look over my shoulders.)

I even contemplate taking his ability to procreate, but I'm not that much of a barbarian. I do like my nuts and castration, whatever the crime, must be one of the worst fates imaginable. I am not a good man. But I can't take someone's nuts.

Criminals are everywhere.

As it happens, this particular one has a wee bit of a record for scumbaggery stashed away beneath layers of deception. Not only do these pirates capture and sell slaves, but they do not hesitate taking mothers and daughters from innocent families for a night of fun - or two, if the wind isn't right for their course - if only so that the women's or girls' families aren't murdered. It’s cruel and, to them, more fun because of the way some women will do their best to please them.

The only good news is that I now have a few locations where we can stock up, load off the pirates with bounties, and if the women want to, leave Earthkingdom behind. We will set a course for Ba Sing Se, though.

There is something to be said for corrupt soldiers on both sides. This, at least, won't change in any world with humans in it. There is a market for everything, and someone will be there to make a profit.

It's made even easier with Earthkingdom recruitment of bandits and common thugs. There is no close or precise screening for them, since there is no time for it, and usually, these recruits are sent to the front lines somewhere. Unless of course, they have friends who can send others in their stead and station them in towns or villages to do as they please in the name of the king.

The nearest such port is a week downstream.

Which gives me one week to find out whether I need to take the brat and run or let him go with Mai. What he wants and what I want may even be very different, incompatible things.

That’s not much time, under supervision. There is little to be said for looking after the brat under such conditions. He can’t talk while anyone who isn’t Mai – who doesn’t know he probably could – is watching and I don’t want to when I won’t be getting a response.

I decide to hum instead as I drag the captain to the mast to tie him up.

The brat seems to tolerate it well enough. I do wonder what kind of taste in music he had, back… home? Do I consider this a visit, still? Because home is where my loved ones are. And, most of them haven’t moved over with me, I believe.

I like to think of myself as a rational, reasonable creature. At the very least, I am able to rationalise my behaviour to myself. I understand my own nature. In a way, I need to be needed. And this brat would _need me_. However, any plans I have for revolutions, and helping Aang would become infinitely harder to realise.

If he stayed with his sister who seems unwilling to even think of letting him out of her sight for long, he could grow, and I could do my thing. That means that I would need to have a thing, though, and the longer I remain at sea, the less time I have. By the end of the summer with the solar eclipse to come, things will be over one way or another.

There is no guarantee that we’ll win, after all. Miraculous lionturtles with solutions for the Avatar might not be a thing this time around.

Once the captain’s sufficiently tied up, I pick up the brat and go below deck.

I look the pirate crew over, checking them all. They are, of course, hungry, and thirsty, but no more than that, except for cuts and bruises - and a few burns, courtesy of Azula.

Gorou, with his arm and bending blocked is the worst off. I decide to get a look at the wound. He’s sufficiently chained, and I’ve put the brat down a few steps away.

His dark eyes watch cautiously as I unwrap the bandage with practised hands. It sticks to the wound. The burn goes deep. I can see the beginnings of an infection. He hisses as the blood- and pus-soaked material comes off.

It’s revolting.

“Hmm,” I hum, and think about healing him. What do I have to gain? One less pirate with a fever, some gratefulness perhaps, and if I go about this properly, a favour.

On the other hand, a fever would make him pliant – sort of.

I decide to clean the wound, bandage it again, give him some water to drink, and leave it at that for now. Burns are best treated immediately, especially with an infection, but I would have to expend some effort and energy. I don’t really have much of that at the moment. Only tomorrow would I try healing him, and only when I know I could sleep uninterrupted for hours.

He watches my motions with sharp eyes, and tenses when the water I bend to thoroughly clean the pus away comes into contact with the wound. “You’re him, right?”

Surprised, I look at him silently. He stares back. Something about him seems familiar.

He’s got the average Earthkingdom looks. Nothing that sparks recognition.

We stare some more. I can’t find it. Well, this is getting us nowhere.

I resume redressing his wound. As I do, I notice a tattoo of a circle of sorts a bit further up his arm. A simple circle.

I used to have a tattoo. It was an impulsive thing, but I never regretted that pie coming out of another pie. Reminded me not to take things too seriously.

It was an easy life. Here, to take things lightly often means stupid mistakes that get you killed. That is, outside of the city of the Northern Watertribe. There, I was free to make as many mistakes as I liked.

When I’m done with his wound, I get some more water for the pirates to drink. The brat toddles at my heels.

As I move along, one by one, I notice that the cabin boy lies curled up in a ball, with bruises where there weren’t any last night. Seems like he’s not very well received with the rest of the crew. Perhaps because he didn’t fight? I doubt that if I heal him now, he will help the pirates escape.

I tug him upright. His face is purple and swollen.

On impulse, ignoring his groans of pain, I gather him up. He’s really just a sack of flesh and bones. We move up the steps to the deck. The captain, from where I’ve bound him to the mast, watches blankly as I put the boy down, and begin to heal him. Thankfully, his bruising is only superficial, though I do worry a bit about his right eye. Even as I gently encourage the cells to heal, it remains unfocussed. Though that may be exhaustion.

I feed him some of the dried meat we found, and water. Then he’s sitting up on his own, and scooting away like a skittish animal. The brat goes to follow, and I hook a finger in the collar of his shirt to keep him where he is. He turns to look at me indignantly. The baby-fat is not doing him any favours.

I shrug.

“Ka! Le- mmme!”

I study the brat for a moment, and then sigh. He’s as much of a grown man as I am, inside, and can make his own decisions. “ _Alright_.”

I let him go.

He pads over, and smacks his child hands to the cabin boy’s leg until the boy cautiously reaches out and lifts him into his lap. Well, then. “ _Scream if you need anything_ ,” I tell the brat, and with a warning glance for the cabin boy, I move up the stern to check our course after giving the captain his share of water.

Azula is waiting with her arms crossed.

It’s just one thing after another these days, isn’t it?

Where are my days of teasing Yue, annoying Pakku und getting Hahn blind drunk? Where are my days of floating on leaves in in streams in my underwear with Sokka?

I suppose there aren't any holidays for men from different worlds trying to help the Avatar make the world whole again. Especially not for men who belong to the darker parts of that whole.

I will have to think about how to get to Ba Sing Se. The maps of the captain detailed the fastest safe passage to Chamaeleon Bay. Which is, to my knowledge still being guarded by Sokka and Katara's father. Perhaps even Pakku. Which could turn out to be problematic just in terms of even getting to say 'hello'. If I recall correctly, the leader of the Southern Watertribe warriors is a very skilled trapper and crafty strategist, very similar to Sokka.

So, how would a ship like this one even get close enough to the barricade to leave the watertribe with it, and perhaps get an escort to Ba Sing Se? Obvious waterbending? It might be best to go with the simplest strategy. Often, convoluted ones give the impression of something more going on.

"What do you plan on doing now?" Azula’s voice is tight in the way that betrays her re-evaluation of just who is the person to best go with in order to survive. She wants, in the end, to come out on top.

She must consider that I am still the one most likely willing and able to help her with that blood clot of hers. She must also consider that my motivations are unknown, and I might just as easily abandon her as I would a leaf that has settled in my hair.

I don’t owe her anything. And the way I see it, she is in large parts to blame for our capture. It may have enlightened me to the fact that without bending, I am unable to protect myself.

I shrug. "How's the head?"

She openly grimaces, so I wave her over, and she sits for me to soothe the headache, and find that blood clot. It feels different. Less pressurising. Her headache can't be that bad. Nice try, princess.

That hit to the back of her head must have done more than just knock her out. Which means that I might not be needed to cure her. Oh dear. This changes quite a few things. She might not even be the young girl I knew her to be any more.

This means that I am free to fuck off whenever I like.

So long as she proves to be back to her fifteen-year-old mind. I’m not that much of an arsehole that I’d let a ten-year-old wander around alone.

But this opens a few more avenues.

.

We have established the shift rotation, and it is working well so far, but it is only a matter of time before one of us falls asleep. I sense that I am the most experienced on watch duty, but even I have my limits, and I have been on watch for weeks now. Sleeping by day helps, of course, as do naps, but surely exhaustion is settling into my bones.

What helps is company and it seems the cabin boy has taken a liking to me, as far as he likes anyone. However, one can like someone and fear them at the same time. That only means one does not feel pure emotions, as I am willing to say one never does. There is no way he could feel any different.

He's shy. Less so, when Mai desires a few hours of uninterrupted sleep in either the captain’s or fist mate’s cabin and the brat is with me. I suppose that's the magic of children. Or not-children. We are always deceived by appearances.

He's fascinated by the stars, rightly so. They twinkle so prettily. I’ve often wondered whether this is somehow, by chance, a different planet with humans on it. but there is no way for me to know.

"Do you know that the world we live on is a planet?" I ask on the second night, following an impulse to share my knowledge.

The boy, helping the brat stand and walk, startles at the sudden question from the figure leaning against the stern's railing in the shadow of the sail. His eyes have become saucers, and I am just beginning to wonder if there is something rather terrifying behind me when he shakes his head.

Well, then. From the beginning it is.

And so I tell him about how our world is round, how the core of it is molten rock, how tectonic plates shift and collide and crack open for volcanoes to form. I spend much time on convincing him that the stars above are suns with their own solar systems, and planets, and how we can see these planets through telescopes. Thankfully, he knows what that is, and this one coinciding fact, or object, as it were, begins to tip the balance of believability in my favour.

"You're saying the planets are moving? How- no one's pushed them to move, and in circles! Or _ellipses_ ," he says distastefully. Throughout the course of our conversation he's come far out of his shell. I’d not expected it, but the brat’s quiet presence and the fact that some of my attention is always on keeping our course seem to help.

I chuckle. "Theoretically, a push is not necessary. Matter attracts. I did tell you about how gravity keeps us on the ground. Well, that force is similar to how the planets attract each other, and never quite touch until they do, and there is an explosion. One day, I think, this planet may collide with its sun, or the comet will come before that, and everything living on the surface will die." Like dinosaurs, I muse.

Wait a second... Perhaps... This is in a time long before the dinosaurs existed. What if these dinosaurs... Aha, hahaha-

I cut off the mad laughter in my head and turn my attention back to the boy in front of me. No sense in wondering. This is a fictional world somehow connected to mine and therefore no longer fictional because I am experiencing it. I won't say there's no way. Because I have no means of knowing that, except for disbelief, and if I do not believe I can trust my belief, it is like searching for clues as to our non-existence because of doubt that we exist. Sort of.

In any case, completely irrelevant to my current conversation.

"You're insane," the boy tells me, "Properly mad!"

I don't doubt it some days. But, today, having told this young creature about what knowledge I've retained, I feel saner than I have in a long while.

"One day, this will all be common knowledge, and people will be able to realise what a big universe they live in."

Hearing that, the boy grows angry. "What would they care? There's-" he steels himself, "There's war! Who cares what the planet does, and the stars when fathers are fighting and _dying_ and-"

Ah. So that's his story. Dead father, pirates come along, and he goes with them, willingly or not.

"And mothers?" I ask quietly, almost softly. I don’t think I can quite manage that.

"Mothers," he spits out, quite literally at that, I’m glad none of it hits me, "Sell you to pirates for a gold piece! That's what I'm worth! A gold piece!"

Not sure how to proceed from here, this precarious position, I sit down beside him. "There's a difference between worth and price," I tell him firmly, "And the distinction is even more important than usual in your case."

He sits there, uncomprehending, but the pat on his shoulder seems to help him. Somewhat. Where's a comforting presence when you need it?

"Price is bad enough," says Mai from her spot a few paces away. She speaks quietly enough that I only just manage to hear her over the sound of the wind on the waves. This is the first time she's initiated any kind of conversation. It seems she's finally ready.

I agree with her words, and so I shrug at her. So long as the boy understands that what his mother was paid is not a figure he should ever pin to himself voluntarily.

Worth is not price, just as wealth is not money. Money is an idealistic good, something intangible when separated from the idea and the system it represents.

So long as he understands that thoughts are free, and that because he is his body, his thoughts belong with his body and he is therefore also free... Well. For that we must be aware that power is another kind of idea that people believe to be tangible because there is such a thing as physical might - two very different things entirely. Power is something you ascribe to something or someone, but it only works so long as you submit to it. The act of submission is what grants this power. (But then again, would we know it if there was a guiding line, a restricting fence to our thinking?)

To understand that, however, from his kind of perspective where any kind of power he never had is physical, is very hard. Especially when one confuses power with physical might.

But what this boy should first and foremost learn is independent thought. And that isn't fostered by handing over all the answers. There does have to be some curiosity for the answers, though.

"Yes," I reply belatedly, "Human beings are not objects to be owned."

I do not speak of how ownership itself is another human convention to support our notions of how the world goes round. How we presume to differentiate between animal and human.

"Oh? I'd have thought you wouldn't mind slavery all that much, kidnapper that you are," she spits. There is the accusation I have been waiting for. Here is her brave notion of justice as a tangible thing, and hypocrisy as something no one should strive for. _Liars_ we all are, to ourselves the most.

"That's hurtful, you know?" I tell her, even as I wonder when the question about that different language will come up with a demand for an answer too fantastical to believe. "To accuse me of desiring power over someone when all I've ever done is kill people."

There, let's see what she does with that. Nothing, it seems, but stare.

"Taking a life is ultimately _exerting_ power over that life. Alive becomes death. Through your hand," she says eventually, after a long silence.

I smile. "True, that. What’s worse? Killing or enslaving? "

She struggles to answer.

I do, too.

"So, what about you?" I ask finally. "Killed someone before?"

Silence.

"So, presuming that you haven't, how do you justify playing judge from that high horse when you could never understand the motivation, or the struggle, even the madness of the act of killing? How do you tell whether you are actually better than I am?"

"I don't go around kidnapping babies!" she exclaims, finally back on sure ground.

"Fair enough, I suppose."

"What do you know about fair?" Her tone is in equal parts condescending and disgusted as she emphasises ‘you’.

"Well, it's balance, isn't it? Equality on a much less romantic scale."

I will not defend my actions. I took an opportunity to help out a scared girl, took advantage of the situation quite thoroughly and couldn't possibly stop along the way to drop off that brat.

"Romantic," she mutters under her breath before straightening. "Who are you?"

"Huh?"

"Twice now I've had to rely on you to save my friend. For weeks I've been chasing you, and for days we've been on this ship, first as prisoners now as wardens. What is your name?"

Should I...?

"Ka!" The brat demands from his perch on her hip.

I suppose I could. "I am Kaito of the Northern Watertribe."

"Mai, daughter of Ukano of the Fire Nation. I'd say it's a pleasure, but..."

That's meant to insult, is it? I give her a smile. Pride is not something I'm familiar with in more than passing acquaintance. "To me, it's been a genuine delight," I tell her this as sincerely as I can manage, which, when considering the way I tend to drawl everything I say, isn't all too shabby.

However, she finds it more insulting than had I said it with obvious sarcasm.

“How do you and my brother know the same language?”

Well. I exchange a look with the brat. He frowns at me. I lift my brows. He pouts.

I sigh. Do I truly want her to know my circumstances? Do I want to lie? Would it matter if she later found out that I lied?

Uncertainty almost forces me to tell her the truth. The brat will let her know one day. I do not know whether she and I will be in positions of contact when he does. Whether she might have some form of power over me.

Vague seems the way to go. “We… come from a similar place. That is, our spirits.”

“Your spirits,” she repeats in a flat tone.

I nod. That’s all I’m saying. “Ask him when he begins to speak. He can decide what to tell you.”

She considers her brother. She’s aware that he is far more aware than a normal child.

"So what do you plan to do now?" She asks after a long silence. It seems she and I are done with pretences. That suits me just fine.

"I'll drop you off somewhere, I suppose. Wherever it is safe enough."

"It's obvious where I need to go, isn't it? Fire Nation territory,” she hesitates, then adds, “I cannot guarantee that you will not be arrested there."

I don't answer her. After all, we have an agreement.

"I suppose... I could arrange for something. A pardon. Perhaps even a royal one, if the Firelord is in the right mood," her tone suggests that the man is never in the right mood.

I laugh softly.

"What?"

I shake my head. "Apologies, Mai. I find the idea of me receiving a pardon rather amusing."

She exhales audibly. “What is it that you _want_?” Mai asks, her voice as frosty as I have ever heard it. I don’t think she likes me very much.

“I want there to be Freedom of Speech, I want Everyone’s Dignity to be Untouchable and I want Free Education for Everyone,“ it occurs to me that I might be about to bite off more than I can chew, “But most of all, I want a damn break."

She twists her mouth into a frown. "Now is not the time for it. You should have thought of that when you ran off with Tom-Tom."

I shrug. True enough.

"So then what? How will you 'drop us off'?"

I wonder. Is she aware that while she and I have an agreement, neither Circus Girl nor Azula are part of it? Is she aware that neither of them intends to let me get away unscathed? (I would think so. Does that matter to her?)

Azula for not healing her entirely yet, and Circus Girl for almost killing her at the beginning of our acquaintance. Knocking me out in the bowels of a pirate vessel does not create any kind of balance, and there is her voice to consider. Even Mai cringes at its sound at times, and I doubt Circus Girl's sunny disposition allows her to overlook that.

I am the cause of all of it.

"In four days we reach Zhenan. There the pirates can be exchanged for bounties, and you have to opportunity to gain passage back to the Fire Nation."

She nods, and leaves.

.

Dark clouds appear on the darkening horizon when I give my watch post to Circus Girl.

I eye her for a moment, but I am sure she will not appreciate being told to not hesitate to wake me when she feels it is no longer safe without me on deck. “Move along, waterbender,” she says, “I will wake you when you are needed.”

With a nod, I do as she says. She is always curt with me. Then again, it might be better this way.

The captain’s cabin is already occupied. Not with Mai, as I half expected, but with the Cabin Boy and the brat. They are curled up on the cot, at the foot end, like dogs. Frightened dogs, with their backs pressed to the wall.

The brat cracks open an eye as I take off my boots. Gently, I run a hand over his head, and he closes it again. The motion wakes the cabin boy. He relaxes when he sees who it is. I repeat the gesture on him, and he too goes back to sleep.

I stretch out at the top end of the cot, lower legs and feet hanging off the side to give them space.

.

What wakes me, is the sound of feet, and chains. Just in time to see the door fly open with enough force that, had I stood behind it, surely I would have gone down.

The weakened pirate without weapons isn’t a match for a rested waterbender at night. Gorou behind him, fevered, is more of a challenge.

That tattoo on his arm is more than it seems. Lightening quick, a disk shoots from it, towards me, and only the hastily raised book I grab from the desk saves me from a concussion. Even so, I think my ring finger is broken.

I hate fighting other competent benders when I’m not standing on ice. But no matter. He’s not at his best, and while he may be luring me in, I am no longer exhausted.

With a hit of the book to his head as he is distracted by the pain of a jab to his injured arm, he goes down. Thank you, hardcover.

Not, that they have invented paperbacks yet.

I move to my boots, take the knife I keep in one out, and give it to the now-awake cabin boy. “Defend yourself and him. If you can help it, do not open the door.”

He nods, determination and readiness for action shining through. I take a moment to bend icy manacles around the unconscious men’s wrists and ankles. Then I locate all the people on board. None below. All on deck. They must have gotten Mai and Azula. Damn it. There is also another large body of water approaching overhead. Perfect.

We have found that conflict is best solved with words. Because after all, if an opponent no longer exists, it is no _win_ for us. We have not stood for what we pretend to embody: freedom.

I imagine the campaign Gorou launched to get the others to agree with his plan, insane as it was, went something like effective reformation campaigns the majority did not want. First the repetition of key-phrases that spark the need for action. Then the pressure on advocates of the opposing view through many voices. And finally, acceptance-management through identification with long-held ideals that are only remotely represented in the new course of action.

Smooth sailing, really, until we came along.

This time, I’m not shy about being brutal.

_Two die. The captain surrenders. The iguana parrot dies a crispy chicken. Ty Lee badasses._

_._

As Zhenan port comes into view, I am glad to have told the Cabin Boy to hide in the crow’s nest. The port looks less than well-kept or even ordered. It seems to work, with lots of shouting and close scrapes, and quite a bit of threatening.

I am just glad to be a bender, and able to manoeuvre the ship to the nearest open space at the docks. Circus Girl and Azula lower the plank once the ship is secured. We have all decided that it is for the best if I guard the prisoners while the women contact the bounty office. That is, Mai and Azula would have been the best choice, but they still refuse to acknowledge each other. And because Circus Girl does not trust me, it can’t be me. Mai refuses to leave her brother with me on board, and having a small child with them when they go speak to the officials will be detrimental. So, Azula and Circus Girl are going. Because of Circus Girl’s voice, Azula will do the talking.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Yet, it is as it is. Mai and I guide the prisoners on deck. All of them are tense. After that dreadful attempt at taking their ship back, they know their best chances are with the guards on land. The ship is mine, now.

To me, the concepts of free trade regulated by a state in order to prevent illegal dealings or monopolies is a simple one, easily grasped. To the people of this world it’s a pipe-dream, the stuff of idealists’ fantasies. We know how to make use of that. So long as one is aware of where the money flows, one can make the right purchases.

And there is no such thing as pity within a market.

I watch the masses of people weave along the docks. Workers carry heavy crates, or roll large barrels to carts. Merchants meet with traders and haggle as slips of paper and coin exchange owners. Passengers exit their cabins, and lift their luggage onto carriages.

Guards stand watch, somehow looking less reputable than the street rats lifting change from pockets.

Through the thick of it, Azula and Circus Girl, together with a unit of guards shove their way through the throng of people. Behind them, the cleared space disappears as quickly as they made it.

Something is tense within every single one of them, except for Circus Girl and the officer. I don’t know whether to attribute it to the fact that they are about to escort dangerous criminals, or whether something else might be in the works. Azula holds herself casually – or as casually as she ever does – and that in itself is suspicious. I thought her a good liar.

So what is making her nervous to the point of losing composure so far that she makes mistakes like this one? Or is it a mistake? Does she perhaps want to warn Mai?

I glance at her, but the woman is busy arranging the pirates into an orderly row to get off the ship.

They look battered, and hungry, all of them.

Some of their eyes are defeated. Some defiant. Gorou’s are determined. He meets my gaze squarely.

I think that, perhaps, he too has noticed it.

The tension in the air.

Azula, Circus Girl and the officer walk the plank onto deck. I remain to the back, not far from the earthbender.

One by one the pirates are led to the dock by the guards, captain first, half-dragged, and their cuffs are connected by a sturdy rope the guards brought with them. They each carry another pair of cuffs.

Azula walks towards me as though to let me in on how it went, and how much money we are receiving for the pirate’s bounties. Her earlier attempt at casualness is gone, replaced by intent. It is similar to how she usually holds herself, but rather than the posture of an observer, she is ready for a fight.

Alright.

Taking a deep breath, careful to remain standing as I have, naturally balancing out the ship’s movement, I ready myself to move out of the way of her bending. The officer is talking with Mai. Too familiarly. Circus Girl is watching with a smile.

I bend some water to creep up the sides of the ship. I will throw everyone off balance first, and hopefully throw someone to the ground while keeping my footing.

Azula’s attack comes suddenly, once she’s reached the ideal range of bending for her. It’s closer than she usually was, when we travelled together, I notice as I slide to the side, and sweep my arm.

The ship tilts dangerously, ropes that tie it to the dock groan loudly, and one snaps sharply, like the crack of a whip.

All stumble, except for me, having anticipated the way the ship would move beneath my feet.

The pirates, three of them that are still on board, fall to the planks. Mai staggers a few steps, and the officer catches her elbow to help her keep her balance.

The crackle of lightening forces my attention to Azula.

That settles it. She is no longer a child.

“I see you’ve recovered,” I tell her, even as I will the masses of water I used to tilt the ship on deck. I freeze the ground we stand on, sealing the pirates to their places on the wood, and everyone’s feet but mine where they stand.

Azula is unafraid of continuing her lightening attack and sends it directly at me.

All I can to is twist, hoping to avoid it.

Something behind me splinters, and I just about manage to clear the space I stand on of ice so that any sparks don’t travel through it to me.

Meanwhile, she has freed her feet, and is kicking fire at me.

Wonderful. Dodging again, I use the ice she hasn’t melted to form stabbing pikes at her that she burns into steam.

But I don’t mind. I guide it to cling to her skin and clothes even as I bend more water to snake towards her from behind.

One tendril manages to snake around her throat before she whips around and sends fire at it in a circular motion. I use the time to move closer to the railing.

All I have to do is send her over it. Once she’s in the water, she’s under my control.

I yank a blast of water from the harbour and direct it at her in bursts, so that her counter dissolves one, two, but neither the third or fourth.

She stumbles back, hit by the third, but dodges the fourth.

She is now almost next to the officer, who has readied himself into a fighting stance.

Only, Mai has her hand on his arm. Keeping him from… murdering the cabin boy in the crow’s nest. Circus Girl is attempting to break the ice around her feet.

However, as the guard turns his attention towards me, Mai releases him.

Well. Lovely.

Mai’s feet are still iced in place, but he has freed himself. With bending. Perfect.

He slides into place beside a recovering Azula and hurls fire at me.

I slide to the side once more, almost stumbling over a grounded Gorou, and send another wave at the firebenders while shaking the ship once more, this time slicing the ropes binding it to the docks.

Now all I have to do is dodge the attacks, and tilt the ship so that everyone not quick enough to grab holds will land in the harbour waters. Where I will, depending on who remains on deck, drown them.

It’s easier said than done.

Two close shaves later, a distraction is provided by a flying disc.

Instantly, I capitalise on Gorou’s assistance, and to my delight, Azula goes flying.

The officer doesn’t. He lunges for the railing on the opposite side, where Mai stands, feet still iced to the ground, attempting to hack it away. She too grabs hold, which will probably save her from breaking bones.

“Uncle!” she cries out, seeing as he only just keeps his grip on the wet handhold.

Well. I’m not kind.

His hand is nailed in place by the water beneath it spearing through.

Thinking fast, I release Gorou once the ship has evened out enough, “Get him off,” I order, and shove Azula underwater again from where she has surfaced.

Gorou hurls his disk at the warden I so rudely left in the tunnels beneath Omashu a month ago.

With a scream of pain, the warden tears his hand free, but takes the hit to his shoulder, falling heavily against the handhold.

However, he retaliates swiftly, and only my switch of attention to shifting him to the side through the ice he’s standing on saves him from another burn.

I lose Azula in the water, and am forced to deal with the warden. Violently, I send spears of ice hurtling at him, and his choice is clear as he escapes over the rail.

That leaves me with two pirates on the planks, two women, and an earthbender who has sunk to his knees in exhaustion.

“Off or on?” I ask Mai, but before she can answer, Azula’s voice screams from the waves, deranged.

“I will kill you! I will imprison you all and kill you! You’ll suffer for this!”

Mai grimaces. “On.”

I turn my eyes to Circus Girl, who is looking decidedly ill. “On,” she whispers.

Looking at Gorou, I gesture to the two pirates.

He nods, “They’ll listen to me.”

That settles it.

With for once broad motions I gather the ship into the cradle of my bending, and send us out of the harbour.

The women gasp, and the pirates shout worriedly as they feel she ship moving. All Gorou does is stare as I guide us to relative safety of the waves.

Once Zhenan is far enough behind us that no skilled archer will be able to land an arrow in my body, I allow the current to take hold of us once more.

No more large ports.


	16. Storm

In the streets of Kibosami there once lived three young children.

Their days were filled with loitering in places they had no business being – that is, if one did not understand that to make a living could also mean to survive by any means necessary. There was nothing deplorable in taking from those who had too much.

There was no reason for them not and every reason to.

Not to, would be to die. And no one makes the conscious choice to have nothing, to live without anything to truly call your own but what you can carry, or to starve. For someone to do that, they would have to take self-punishment to new heights. But these three children were not aware that there even was such a thing as self-flagellation, or the disciplining of children with physical violence.

“Piss off!”

There was that.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you!”

And that.

It was never very hard to slip away. They always had a plan, and always worked together. They understood that to survive as they were, it was to be either together or not at all.

“Why don’t you come with me? We could have a good time. I’d make you rich!”

And that.

One day, they did not manage to get away.

The girl went with the adults. Large, unwashed men with sadistic intentions. Truly, she despised them. But she was the price for her brother’s life. There was no question of paying it.

The two boys plotted her rescue.

They knew nothing of where she would be taken. They knew nothing of what would be done to her. They knew nothing.

Yet, they plotted. Searched in similar places at similar times of her taking.

And one day, found.

The very same men who had taken her, took another young girl. And this time, the two boys went unnoticed as they followed.

It was a large house – a mansion. One of them had heard another adult use the word in connection with a powerful man, a wealthy family or something like that. There were many guards.

It did not deter them. Weeks had passed. They would find her, and it had to be then. It had to.

They watched. They waited. They snuck past the bored men who did not think of their occupation as an art, and to whom diligence was a foreign word that they would never understand.

The rooms were large and pristine, the carpets ornate and flush. They did not care. Where was she?

Instead of hidden away in the cellar where it had been damp, dark and musty they found her in one of the rooms upstairs. They passed doors that had occupants. Screaming occupants. Laughing ones. They moved on. There was nothing behind those doors for them. Only the one.

She was asleep. She was chained to the bed. She was naked. Blood had dried between her legs. Bruises had formed on her hips, legs, breasts.

They secured the door. She woke.

“Gorou,” she rasped, relief in her voice, and horror, “O-Ting.”

They went to her. O-Ting picked the locks to her shackles. Gorou gathered the bedcovers around her to cover her. She cried.

Ashamed

She mourned that they would see her in this state. She feared for them. She could not bear what had been done to her. Privately, she thought she would not allow herself to pay this price once more. She hated herself most for this thought.

They grew even more furious.

Yet, they had to escape unnoticed. She could not walk.

“Leave me,” she begged.

They would not.

“Then,” she whispered, “Release me.”

They could not.

Neither of them had ever taken a life. And they would not start with her.

It was decided that they would carry her. They both were smaller than her. Younger. Used to be weaker, too.

She was not that heavy. Their anger became an almost palpable thing.

They were caught. They fought. They killed.

In desperation, they discovered bending.

But she had already died for them.

And so, they took vengeance.

_._

Not only self-assessment, but assessing a situation and finding out what needs to be done to get out of it is an acquired skill. 

In my first life, I had to cultivate it to the point that I could use it in any situation. Yet, once again, I find myself in foreign territory with little idea as how to navigate the terrain. These things used to be simple: whip out your phone and make use of a search engine on the internet. Those filtered out the information you were unlikely to need, or that was inconvenient for you to have. (For commercial purposes only, of course. As if anyone would believe that without reservation or on the good days, when lying to oneself is easy.) 

I was absorbed enough in playing the game that was my life to ignore it. I had to make ends meet, after all, and there wasn’t only me to think about. Nothing wrong with it, I thought, then. However, comparing my situation to the worst possible one and thinking ‘It could always be worse’ is just another way of saying that I’ve not been made uncomfortable enough yet to actively change my situation. (Instead, I should have looked to the ideal, and striven towards it. 

An ideal isn’t there to be reached. It’s there to stop you from growing complacent, and stagnant, unwilling to learn or correct yourself and your assumptions. It’s old-people-syndrome, if you will.) 

But the trick to life is not to get too attached to it. 

It’s compromised of change, after all. The time on the ship was a nice reprieve. A way of being close to home. After all the unpleasantness was over, anyway. 

Now, as we’ve raised the sails once more, and are steadily allowing the current to carry us into open waters, a touch of relief is the cause for my relaxed state. I enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough I will have to wrangle promises from my shipmates. 

I cannot trust the pirates, no matter how much Gorou helped me out. Him I will afford the courtesy of treating him as an ally until he proves himself my enemy. The other two are... to be watched carefully. 

As for the women, they might change their minds at any time. My suspicion is that Mai only remained on board because of her brother, who was with the cabin boy at the time. I would guess that she decided not to return to a country whose leader might just punish her for not murdering me regardless of her return, or her attempts to secure her friend. Perhaps even former friend. I am not certain she can forgive Azula the way she treated both Mai and Circus Girl. 

Then there is her. She went with Azula to negotiate bounties, and guide the guards to the ship. She must have recognised Mai’s uncle. She must have heard them plan it out. Why is she on board? Why did she not participate in the fight? 

During the attempted mutiny she wasn’t injured, as far as I could tell. 

However, she did throw a couple men overboard. They drowned. Perhaps this was the first time she was directly responsible for a death. 

Perhaps she is on board because Azula wanted her to be. 

I will have to wait and see. 

.

“So,” I say, taking stock of the assembled. Mai is clutching her brother close. Circus Girl is an unhealthy shade of green as she meets my eyes with determination. 

The cabin boy has cautiously positioned himself by the mast, closer to me than anyone else. 

Gorou and his two underlings whose names I need to find out are near the rail, sitting loosely together after having helped set the course and nursing their wounds. 

“The way I see it,” I state carefully, as drily as I can afford to be with tensions to high, “We are stuck together until we reach Chamaeleon Bay. Unless someone wants to get off wherever we stock up, since we’re running low on water and lower on food.” 

“What about the barricade?” One of the pirates asks, and I strain to understand the words from beneath his beard. He looks more alert than he should be, after the mutiny and fight just earlier. 

I may not look it at the moment, in his captain’s too short trousers and shirt, but I am watertribe. "I know the man who leads it. It’ll be fine. If you’re worried, you’re free to get off before we reach the Bay in about a week.” 

“A week? From here? We’ll need double that, at best.” 

“I’m a waterbender. I can shorten our journey,” I struggle to remain civil. I am not a patient man. I am not a leader. Not truly. I was able to command the unit of waterbenders during the invasion because of Hiraku. He did the actual leading on the wall, in the bay.

He died for it, and in a way, in my stead.

But for now, there is no one to delegate to. I’m certain Gorou would be capable. But I cannot trust him.

I have to rely on only myself. That, and the self-preservation instincts of these people. Reasonably, I could perhaps trust the cabin boy to want to keep himself safe. For that, he will probably bet on me. Mai… well, she cares about her brother, and so far, her brother cares for me. Circus Girl, Gorou and the other two are mysteries to me.

“Is there anything else?” I ask and dearly hope not.

“Yes,” Gorou sits up from where he’s cradling his arm, “What do you want in exchange for healing my arm?”

Ah. That. Well, I suppose I have enough energy for it. Mai and the cabin boy will take first watch. And I will explain to them very carefully where I expect us to be when I wake up. But that he assumes I will… well, he’s not wrong. It isn’t good that I’m becoming so predictable.

“Your word,” is what I settle on, “That neither you nor the both of you,” I look at the pirates who scowl at me, “Will harm any of the other people currently on board. Causing harm also includes another attempt at taking over the ship, as well as forgetting to think before speaking.”

“You’re trusting the word of these pirates?” Circus Girl bursts out, voice ominous with disbelief and sawdust.

“No less than I trust you,” I tell her, and she shuts her mouth. “Trust until it is broken, I’d say,” casting another look at each of their faces. “None of you have lied to me yet. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

She is a silent witness after that, as Gorou gives his word, and makes the other two do the same with a glare. They must be scared witless of him with how reluctant they are to follow his example. It seems that they will obey him, and so, if Gorou honours his word, we are in the clear.

“I will heal you. Then you will rest. And as of tomorrow, you will be part of the watch rotation. All of you.”

.

Sailing in open waters is like a deep desire, a longing has finally been fulfilled. I had not realised how much I missed the ocean. My parents named me well, since the first part of it means sea or ocean.

I match it in more than just name.

It is dangerous, especially when a storm brews on the horizon and the coast, as far as it is visible and the maps show, has no coves to protect us if we anchored there. In preparation for should the cabin boy in the crow’s nest spot something I take a look at the anchor itself. I wouldn’t trust the rope not to snap at a strong wave.

We will have to outrun it.

.

The cabin boy sits on the cot while I look at the sea charts again and check our course. I could adjust it here, and cut very close to those fissures where there are even shipwrecks drawn on the map by a skilled hand. The warning is clear.

I wouldn’t usually disregard it.

But I will, this time. It will be no good to have to preserve the ship in its entirety in what I feel coming. I am not all-powerful. But I can take some fissures.

This will place us just a day or two before Chamaeleon Bay. The former, if the storm keeps up its pace.

“Do you think they’ll try something?” It’s not necessary to ask who he means. Any of the others are a potential danger. But during this storm, I am every single one of their reasons why upsetting me would be very detrimental to their survival.

“Are you afraid they will?” I turn to face him. The question is obsolete. His response is not.

“Ebisu was one of the ones that…” Hurt him when they were all in the hold together. When I hadn’t even thought of the boy as someone who needed protection at all.

“Which one’s that?” My voice remains calm and as disinterested as it usually is.

“The taller one,” he whispers. What a manipulative little boy.

A frown finally manages to break free. I intensely dislike Ebisu for what he did. One wrong move, and it’s one less mouth to worry about feeding. I don’t need more than two or three others to sail this ship.

“They won’t try anything now,” I turn back to the charts. “And if they do later, I won’t be gentle.”

It seems to calm him somewhat. He must remember the brutality of the mutiny. Circus Girl indirectly killed two men and grievously injured three more. Azula burnt one to a crisp only to kick him overboard and let the flames sizzle out in the waves. Mai was unable to fight properly because of her worry for her little brother, but she defended herself well until she was restrained.

And I… well, there was a reason none of them were standing when it was done. There was a reason why they behaved so well afterwards.

No one likes almost dying of suffocation. Even less when it is caused by your own bodily fluids. Some flinched whenever they swallowed a few hours later.

One and all, they were no longer confident their bodies would do as they were told. Instead, they were confident that I could d to them whatever I wanted and there was no one who could stop me but my own good will and conscience.

“But you won’t make him walk the plank yet?”

A bit vindictive, that one.

“Not until he breaks his word. If he doesn’t at all, he will be with us until Chamaeleon Bay. Perhaps even Ba Sing Se,” I turn to look at him again. Stubborn silence on his part. It seems he has grown enough in confidence to at the very least openly show his distaste. Perhaps even the beginnings of rebellion.

I doubt he would provoke his former tormentor, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Those who have never been in power tend to abuse every slither of it once they have it, when those who held it over them previously were not kind. No one has ever been kind to him.

“Unless of course, you want to make your own way?”

“No!” He panics, leaping to his feet, and suddenly grasping at my shirt. “Don’t! I won’t!”

“Alright. That’s fine. It’s entirely up to you whether you stay with me, or go. Whatever you want.” It seems I’ve become his protection and his source of feeling secure. A dangerous dependence on a man who could disappear or die at any moment.

He sags, and puts his forehead to my sternum.

Okay then. He might as well write ‘handle with care’ on his forehead.

I pat his hair. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Haruto,” he mumbles.

“That’s a nice name. I’m Kaito.”

“Hello,” he still doesn’t let go. I continue to pet him.

.

There is no such thing as one truth.

There are perspectives, many of them, and they can all be true, but there is not one truth. One might argue that there are facts, and they constitute for what we know is true, and therefore hold truth. That is not the only kind of knowledge we can have.

There is emotional competence, and such things as inference, or even a string of happenings. There are such things as change, and time, and overlaps that no human could fully comprehend.

And so, when someone lies to me, I don't usually think it's because they are purposefully untruthful. To them, what they are saying may be true, or hold some truth. But when I have caught them red-handed, so to speak, about to alter our course when I know it's right, there is no way I will believe Circus Girl that she had only wanted to avoid a fissure. She may not know much about sailing, but she does know that I know more, that Haruto knows more, and he has alerted me to her actions.

Perhaps this is where she was supposed to help Azula capture us. Though I had suspected Azula would take one of the Fire Nation's coal-powered warships, and chase us to the blockade at Chamaeleon Bay. Perhaps even attempt a breach.

Though I suppose she knows that on the water she could not hope to stand against me.

Well, then I think I shall put Gorou on guard rotation with her. They seem to hate each other. Understandable, really, from her perspective, since he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of letting the other pirates have a go, only that he wanted the full ransom payment. And Gorou… he doesn't like anyone, really.

His mood is mostly surly, and that is when I like him best. He doesn’t speak then. When he does, it’s very carefully veiled barbed comments that only prick once one stops to think about it. None of the others do. None of the others hold any kind of conversation with him.

He’s a very… dark presence, I suppose. Tom-Tom doesn’t seem to be sure about him, and Mai cautiously keeps them both away.

The other two pirates aren’t very good at keeping their mouths shut, so Gorou does it for them. I don’t want to know what he’s done to make them more afraid of him than me.

The storm seems to put everyone on edge, though.

I gain momentum each day.

There is energy in the air, charging, and I can feel it swirl around my body, ready to be harnessed.

But not yet. Not quite yet.

On the horizn I can see Fire Navy ships, and they too are sailing for their lives. The difference is, they won’t make it. I hope Azula’s on one of them.

.

What has never occurred to me before it smacked wetly into my face, was the odd lack of bad weather in the Avatar-Universe. But unlike the times when rainstorms were a bother and health-hazard, here they give me rise to _power_.

Power that sparks fires of fear in my fellow travellers as they witness how I harness the water and singlehandedly sail us through the barricade the Fire Nation has erected.

It’s a rush, and at the same time, infinite peace.

They have no idea what a bender with imagination is capable of.

I have the rudder in the tight grip of a fluid fist, use the enormous masses of water thrashing in a tantrum to propel us forwards like Spirits of the Sea, like the Flying Dutchman. And the Sea allows it, guides me as she always does, to the heart of the storm.

Nautical miles that would have taken us weeks to sail, we now rush past at speeds I would imagine even a motorboat on a quiet day would struggle to cover.

I can feel where the wind whips into the sail, driving us deep into enemy waters. Enemy waters that have become a death sentence to all Fire Nation ships while this storm lasts.

And where the ship is groaning, I know it isn’t because of impeding wreckage, but joy. We face no resistance, and I would call it flying, if I weren’t so aware of the power the Sea lends me.

As the winds and the water and I cut across the distance, I become aware of one man standing a short distance away.

At first, I think it is Gorou, or even Haruto. But no, it’s someone entirely different.

A Spirit I know I have a deep connection with.

La, of the Ocean, in his human appearance is visiting me, guiding, and riding the wave of joy in perfect harmony with me. I would concentrate on his looks, see if I know him, and I would say he looks a lot like my uncle, the sailor I knew in my first life, but as it happens I know who he is, that he is here to share this with me and that is all I need to shout with joy.

.

[ **This turned out a little weird. But, no matter.** ]


	17. Chamaeleon Bay

It is not the sudden lack of power afterwards that is bad. La leaves my side once we clear the bay's entrance, and I begin to feel the strain of this much continuous, strenuous bending. There is no moon to keep me from rapidly losing energy. Yue has little power during the day and even less on a decrescent moon. I wonder if, since La paid me a visit, Yue could do the same under different circumstances. I like to think she would speak with me, if she had the chance. Perhaps during an event such as the Blue Moon.

What is uncomfortable, more so than the exhaustion that will soon be settling in, is the way the others seem to be debating whether or not to throw me over board now rather than later. Not, that I wouldn't do the same. They cluster together, looks almost fearful. However, I do intend to survive.

"We're in the middle of Chamaeleon Bay. The Southern Watertribe will soon find us. If you pretend to be who you're not," this is directed at Mai and Circus Girl, "You might even get a hot meal out of it."

Mai looks torn between the promise of proper food, and her pride. Circus Girl seems to not even consider it. Sea food prepared by warriors though is usually an acquired taste. That is, if they are anything like the warriors I was on patrol with.

"Ship ahead! It's sinking!" Comes Haruto's cry from the crow's nest.

Oh. Well, I'm not entirely dead on my feet yet. It seems like, in actuality, I may have lost energy, but I have retained more than I usually have. I would even go so far as to say that I feel invigorated. So, rescuing a few shipwrecked wouldn’t be much of a strain.

And this could be Sokka and Katara's father. So there really isn't any other viable choice.

"Okay then. We can expect injured, so one of you needs to get our medical supplies," I say as I stand, and Circus Girl surprises me by wordlessly turning and going to fetch what I need.

The water is relatively still now, though the last vestiges of the storm haven't passed yet. With only a bit of effort I manoeuvre our ship to the sinking one. Watertribe. I'd have thought they'd be smarter than that. Staying out of their protected coves in this weather is insane. If one doesn't have La on their side anyway.

I stretch my senses for bloodbags. Most of the crew have managed to cling to driftwood, old planks of their ship, or the mast that is slowly but surely being dragged under with the rest of the ship by its tethers. But there are two down there who haven't managed to exit the ship.

In order to keep the ones who have managed it alive, I cut the ropes binding the mast to the sinking ship. Then, I strip down to my trousers.

“What are you doing?” Mai asks, tone incredulous with lack of understanding.

“Saving two people from drowning,” I tell her and dive into the water.

It's been a while since I've bended while properly submerged. It must have been at my last spar with Pakku.

The ship looks like it was battered with a large hammer, and then ripped open by large hands. The two people still on board are together, and I can feel their weakening thrashing.

I propel myself forwards quickly, to find that both of them are caught in some rope, but can't free themselves because one is tugging on the end of the rope that would need to loosen in order for the other to escape, and vice versa. They seem to not even have realised it.

I am quick to cut them free, and bend us to the surface together, where I form a platform of ice for us to sit on. And flop around on, gasping for air once I’ve bent the water from their lungs.

Gorou and the other two pirates have begun throwing out ropes to pull the able ones on board. Mai and Circus Girl are preparing the hold for visitors who aren't prisoners and Haruto is carefully watching the proceedings while he keeps Tom-Tom on his hip so that the toddler can see what's going on.

Briefly, I check on my two new friends who are still hacking and coughing before I begin to carefully expand my platform and gently scoop up the shipwrecked crew.

"I've never been so glad to see a bender," one of them coughs out, sending me a grateful smile. "Thank the Spirits they sent you here."

That's truer than he thinks. "Glad to be of help," I tell him, before raising the platform to our ship's railing and setting everyone down one by one.

Once I've pulled all the water from their and my clothes, I set to examining every one of them. Some, I help remove the last water from their lungs, others I wrap up cuts for, and for the man who so reverently thanked the Spirits, I heal a broken ankle.

Not bad. But we do have the problem of no more provisions. That is, except for the liquor I found a few days ago.

Finally, I sit down for a good drink. I have no injuries, and I have earned it.

If nothing else, the captain had good taste in beverages.

So much so, that once I pass the bottle around, I don’t get it back. “This is good stuff,” one of the shipwrecked comments before emptying the last swallow once Mai has shaken her head no, she doesn’t want any.

“The former captain of this vessel was generous enough to leave it behind,” I reply, and sit to lean against the mast.

Gorou snorts, but doesn’t comment as he finishes tidying up the ropes with his two underlings. “What were you doing out in this weather?” he asks. I’m surprised. But then again, ingratiating himself with the watertribe warriors isn’t the most stupid thing to do.

“Our mooring was faulty and our anchor, once we noticed what was going on, almost managed to sink our ship even without the help of the storm. It was almost over by then, but even so it was all we could do to stay alive,” he pauses for just a moment, “What were _you_ doing out?”

“Sailing,” I say at the same time as Circus Girl answers, “Committing suicide.”

He looks between us, shakes his head, and asks, smiling, “So which was it?”

I glance at my ‘crew’. “I feel there is a distinct lack of trust on this ship.”

Silence reigns then, and for a short time I amuse myself with smiling benignly.

“You’re a bender,” the warrior finally says, “From the north?”

I nod in answer to his question. “Met Pakku recently?”

“Master Pakku? You know each other?”

“He was my teacher,” I reply, and his eyes widen.

“You’re Kaito! He said you might somehow find your way here! My name is Bato, Hakoda’s second in command. Pakku stayed with us for a week, and left us with two of his benders, but neither of them were able to help us in this storm. I can hardly believe you made it through, and with your ship intact!”

“I had a bit of help,” I admit. “Who are these two benders, then?”

“Katsuo and Buniq,” he replies promptly.

“What a coincidence,” I murmur, and smile. My formerly fellow student under Pakku, and my former friend in Yugoda’s domain. She helped me out a few times with the new bending methods I had never encountered before then. I have a feeling I might not receive the warmest welcome from them. “In any case, I’d like the opportunity to speak with Hakoda, if only to take some messages to his children.”

“Yes! How are Sokka and Katara? Why aren’t they with you? Pakku told us he left you with the Avatar almost at General Fong’s doorstep.”

“Ah,” a slow smile stretches my mouth, “He did.”

“And? What happened?”

“How about I tell you when I tell Hakoda?”

He looks at the faces of my companions then. And nods, slowly.

.

Hakoda’s cove isn’t as well-hidden from sight as I would have expected. However, it is easily defended, and had they not spied Bato speaking casually with me, I’m sure that instead of helpers for mooring, we would have received a far colder welcome. Even so, I would not have worried, but Hakoda is said to be a genius, and genius I am not. So, in a way, I am thankful not to have to measure my ability against his mind.

“Bato! You’re alive!” He hugs the man, and then his eyes settle on the crew of the stolen pirate ship.

Beside me stands Mai, brother on her hip, and looking both wary and relieved. I do wonder whether it’s from standing on solid ground, or from sensing a way to remove herself from my presence. But then again, should these people find out about her identity, she could end up once more in a hostage situation. Even I wouldn’t forcefully free her if it came to that. It’s just a matter of allegiance.

Slightly behind us stand Gorou and Circus Girl, neither particularly happy. Haruto is hiding in the crow’s nest, since it’s once again safe there. The other two pirates have elected to remain on board. There is no way they could leave the cove without us, and so I don’t worry.

“Good afternoon,” I greet, and Hakoda narrows his eyes at me. In response, I widen mine with a bit of a smile. It seems that dislike of me the instant we meet runs in the family.

“Hakoda, these people rescued us from the wreck. Even now you could not have risked more men to find us. This is-“

“Kaito?” A young, incredulous voice asks.

It’s Katsuo. I haven’t seen him since the invasion. He looks different. Older. Stressed. Somehow responsible. Although he always was, more than I. He wasn’t usually the instigator of any mischief we got up to. He tool his place as Pakku’s student too seriously for that. The prestige that came with it went hand in hand with expectations he rarely defied.

“Katsuo,” I greet. “Bato told me you were here,” I say, and move to meet him two steps forward where we grasp each other’s forearms. This is far more pleasant than what I expected. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, and it’s in parts pleased, in others simply a smile. There is none of the gloating I’d have seen a few years ago. “You look… aged.”

I laugh. “I have,” I don’t deny it. There are faint lines around my eyes and mouth now, “Life outside of the city is different.”

We both know what I mean. We were both privileged beyond belief. Here, as strangers to all others, we survive only on our own merits. It is both invigorating and exhausting.

He leans in and lowers his voice as he puts a serious face on. “I know we were never close. But, for all it’s worth, I’m sorry about the princess.”

Since only he can properly see, I grimace. “It was Yue’s choice,” I say lowly, careful not to let my anger at that failure and loss of mine show, “And it is only thanks to her that we are alive.” After all, she did not _have_ to sacrifice herself, and her prospects for this. For us. She was confident that we would win this war, with her contribution. Certainly, I would be little better than a soldier with constant phantom pains. There is much I am grateful to her for.

“Still,” he insists, “Everyone felt as though if we had done more, fought harder, it would never have had to come to that.”

I shrug, and squeeze his arm before letting go. “You don’t have to tell me. I was only a minute away when it happened.”

He nods, looking like he understands better now, with this titbit of information about that night. There was never an official announcement beyond the fact the Yue had given her life to save the moon, and therefore the entire world. “So, how did you end up here? And in that storm, no less! I mean, you always were a prodigy, but that? That was insane, man.”

I smile. “La visited.”

He gapes and then begins to laugh. Slowly at first, until it grows into a full head-thrown-back laugh that draws stares from all around us.

The southern watertribesmen look various degrees of freaked out to exasperated.

Bato chooses this moment to introduce the others. “These are Mai, her brother Tom-Tom, Ty Lee and Gorou. They all need food and water.”

Finally, he looks at me again. “Kaito wanted to speak with you. I’d be interested in his story, as well. I’m sure Katsuo is, too.”

“Yes,” Hakoda agrees, eyeing me with less suspicion than before. It seems he likes Katsuo, and Bato hasn’t made any overt signs that he distrusts me yet. “Come inside, all of you. There is food, and warm furs. And you two,” he jerks his head at Katsuo, who is still chuckling, and me, “Follow me and Bato.”

The other shipwrecked are taken into their respective tents, and Gorou and the women are taken into one of the larger ones that must be somewhat communal.

Inside Hakoda’s tent, there is a pot of stew half-prepared. The vegetables are still un-chopped, and the squid needs cleaning.

Hakoda seats himself by the cooking utensils, and takes up the knife. Bato settles next to him, and Katsuo and I sit across from them.

“Sokka and Katara, last I saw them, were fine. They and Aang left Omashu before the fighting began.”

Something in Hakoda’s motions becomes smoother. He nods. “What happened before then? I had thought General Fong would teach the Avatar earthbending, and you would remain there until he had mastered it.”

I tilt my head. “So we thought. It turns out General Fong had plans to awaken Aang’s Avatar State forcibly and so shape him into a weapon he wanted to use immediately. His explanations were faulty, and unreasonable,” Hakoda’s eyebrows rise as he drops the chopped vegetables into the pot with small plops.

“I’m sure Sokka had less reasonable things to say about the man,” Bato comments, and earns a smile from me before I continue.

“Naturally, we left. Aang thought that perhaps his old friend Bumi had descendants in Omashu who could teach him instead. It was fortunate news to find out that the man himself was still alive. Less fortunate was that the Fire Nation had just taken the city,” this is older news to them. It seems no one in General Fong’s base was kind enough to inform their allies of what exactly happened, but Omashu was big enough of an incident that they would hear.

“During investigations, we made contact with the resistance that had gone underground into the city’s tunnels after King Bumi’s surrender in the face of the Fire Nation’s numbers. And a plan was made to re-take the city. Somehow, the governor’s son ended up in our camp. Returning him was more problematic that we first thought. You see, we had arranged for King Bumi’s release in exchange. But the Fire Nation princess Azula did not seem to agree. During multiple confrontations, Aang activated the Avatar State. Only Katara could stop him, and by then it was possible to escape the city with King Bumi.”

Hakoda sighs. “Of course she was the one to calm him down.”

“But the city is back in Earthkingdom hands,” Katsuo says, “You must have gone back.”

I nod, “I did. Aang, Sokka and Katara left before they could take part in the war properly. The city was re-taken, with heavy losses for both sides. But the Fire Nation no longer had access to the canyons. If any one of them enters, they are buried beneath landslides and rubble before they can even reach the city.”

“So what happened after that?”

“Well. I was captured by pirates when I was travelling down to the coast in hopes of gaining passage to Ba Sing Se. They didn’t know I was a bender,” I shrug and accept a cup of tea from Bato with a smile.

“So that’s how you gained control of the ship. But there aren’t any pirates left, are there?” Katsuo thinks out loud, and I wonder if he’s playing into my story this easily on purpose. “But what’s with the death wish? You couldn’t have known La would show up.”

I nod. “I had little choice. There weren’t any acceptable coves within reach. And so I took my chances. I knew with the way the storm caught up and energised me, we were more likely to survive riding the storm. And I was right.”

Katsuo chuckles once more as he shakes his head. “Insane. I always knew you were, but this is proof.”

“Insanity,” Hakoda says, “And brilliance are often the same thing.”

I wonder if this is his approval showing or if he just enjoys saying things like that.

“But you did place your entire crew in danger by recognising the signs of the approaching storm, especially as a bender and especially as one as proficient as we were led to believe, and then not seeking appropriate shelter in the cities on the way here,” Hakoda continues, stirring the pot. His eyes bore into mine, and he must be considering how glad he is that I no longer travel with his children. Perhaps he also recognises that I am unwilling to sacrifice my own safety and freedom for people I’ve known only for a short time.

But he doesn’t know how I’ve grown fond of Aang, Sokka and Katara.

Then again, not fond enough to leave Omashu together with them. Instead, I left it with a Fire Nation princess who had temporarily lost her memory and is now dead-set on capturing and probably torturing and killing me. So, all in all, he is right to suspect that his children are safer without me. However, he doesn’t know half of that.

“I had little choice. The Fire Nation princess is like a very efficient bloodhound, and I have no intentions of becoming the Fire Nation’s prisoner. Or worse, her personal one. None of the others were keen on her either,” I smile a half-smile, “I’m sure you, in my position would have found different choices to make. However, you were not, and so, to judge this particular instance is going so far as to encroach on a judge’s profession. As the chief of my sister-tribe, you fulfil that position somewhat, I admit. But there are choices one makes in war, as I am sure you have done, that we are not particularly proud of. In the end, I have no desire to justify my actions before you now. As I would not expect you to justify yourself before me.”

I do not know what he thinks of my last words. Which instances he thinks of. But I can tell that there are instances he thinks of, and he nods. He does not smile. But he nods.

And so, I do not mention the way he left his children behind in order to make these decisions one makes in war. He seems to be less of a hypocrite than I am.

Katsuo speaks then, staring at his tea, “You always were very pragmatic. I remember how you used to get us out of most trouble for surfing the wall by arguing that then the spectators should also be punished for encouraging us, children that we were. In that light, you really were a prodigy.”

“What,” I smile, “Only in that light?”

He rolls his eyes and looks like he’d like to swat me. No one’s dared since Yue. I rub away the ache in my chest with a hand. The shirt’s texture is rough and scratchy.

“Pakku spoke very highly of you,” Hakoda mentions almost casually, if not for the way his scrutiny is all too obvious. I suppose that’s a courtesy on his part. I’m fairly certain he could do the assessing in a less blatant way. “I can see why he likes you.”

Katsuo sighs. “You really were his favourite.”

I shrug. I know that. The entire Northern Watertribe knows it. “Pakku gets along well with those who don’t easily defer to him. My antagonism wasn’t geared deliberately to appeal to him, but its helped us understand each other well.”

He laughs humourlessly. “Whenever I disobeyed, there was no understanding.”

“Pakku is also uncompromising. But from the beginning, he wanted something. From you it was obedience. From me… a challenge. It’s not fair, of course. But no person can ever be truly fair. And Pakku is far from impartial in any of his decisions.”

“You know him well. Better than we had the chance to,” Bato comments almost idly when Katsuo remains silent.

“I’m sure you had more than his personality and my personal failures to discuss,” I say, shrugging. “Such as your mother in law. He was very excited to get to meet her again. And on that note, I would ask if there is anything I can do for the time that I am here, after this storm. I will have to rest for the night, but afterwards, I could assist you in repairs, or checking those traps you set, Katsuo. Some of them were damaged, I think, unless I don’t understand their functions.”

A snort from the tent’s entrance makes all our heads swivel to look at the new arrival. Buniq. She looks, similarly to Katsuo, as though she has grown with her challenges. No longer is there the easy deference in the presence of men. During the invasion, she made use of some of what I taught her to defend herself, and her fellow healers. But there is still the burns on her hands from when the Moon died.

“Hello, Buniq,” I greet, and like Hakoda, make no secret of my scrutiny of her.

“Kaito. As deceitful as ever,” she says, sits beside me and smiles. “You know I never thought I would, but I missed seeing you around.”

“Are you sure that’s not nostalgia for old time’s sake?” I ask drily, aware that she doesn’t actually mean that. She doesn’t smile when she tells the truth.

“You’re right. Now I remember why I hated you so much.” And, true to my observations, her smile has gone.

Katsuo laughs on my other side. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

I remain silent, and smile while I wait for Buniq’s answer. Whatever she comes up with would be better than the truth, probably.

“He taught me some bending,” she says carefully.

Katsuo’s eyes widen. “That’s… Isn’t that forbidden?”

I shrug. “I may not have been a master, but no master would have taught her, so…”

“Why?” Hakoda asks.

“So Pakku forgot to mention,” I state wryly. Well, it would not have endeared the Northern Watertribe to Hakoda, and so it was not said. “Katara is the first woman to officially learn bending other than healing in the north. Things will have changed now, with her example, but she’s the first.”

The two southerners sit in silence for a time.

“But why would you learn from Kaito if you hated him?” Bato asks.

She remains silent.

“We made an exchange. Buniq helped me with some healing techniques, and I returned the favour.” I don’t mention the secrecy in which we were forced to do this. That much is obvious. But it’s not clear in what a precarious position I put myself at the time, to return the favour. Pakku would have been so outraged, he would have forsaken everything else between us, and made certain that I would never become a master. And I would not want the southerners to know how horrible the tribe could be.

“So men don’t heal in the North?” Hakoda asks.

“Not many. And certainly with less proficiency than the healers,” Katsuo replies. “More of the younger ones learn it since Kaito went without Pakku’s protest. But its still considered a woman’s profession.”

“And you?” Hakoda prods.

Katsuo’s surprise at the question is evident. “Ah, no. I’ve not taken it up.”

“Well. Perhaps if an opportunity presents itself, Buniq could teach you,” Hakoda suggests. Well. This is certainly interesting. It seems the chief of the Southern Watertribe has no reservations about changing his sister tribe’s social structures.

I smile.

Katsuo, seeing that, sends a questioning look Buniq’s way, who nods, silently pleased.

“Before that can happen, though,” I say, accepting the bowl of stew Bato hands me, “You will need to show me around your defences.”

Katsuo nods. “Yes.”

We eat mostly in silence, then, except for the usual compliments for the chef.

That is, until one of the warriors pushes aside the tent flap. “Hakoda! There’s an argument between one of the women and the warriors about rationing!”

Hakoda doesn’t sigh, but he looks like, were he alone, he would.

“I had better come with you,” I say, emptying my bowl, and setting it aside neatly.

That seems to be the catalyst for everyone following Hakoda to where raised voices can be heard.

Mai, clutching her brother, looks furious as she glares at the man who stands between her and the food.

“There is no way my brother could eat this,” she gestures to an abandoned bowl of stew at the fireplace. “It is far too spiced and chewy.”

“Nonsense! I ate it growing up, he ate it growing up, we all did!”

Ah. Watertribe food isn’t what Fire Nation nobles would call a delicacy. Then again, this is being a bit much of a brat, even for the brat. I was able to convert the sea water into drinkable stuff, but we had little to no food for about a day there. More or less. I’m not sure for how long I was riding that storm.

I wonder over to the pot. Prune stew. I taste it. a bit stronger than I’d have made it, but certainly acceptable. The argument has gone on while I made my own judgement of the situation.

Now I set the ladle aside and turn around to look at the brat. He might have a more delicate palate than I, but he certainly ate what I fed him during our journey with Azula. He’s never complained. So should I take this as Mai’s way of releasing tension? We have been on a ship for a long time. While it may have freed me, it must have been restricting to her. Especially since I was the one with all the control over where we went and what we did.

“Mai,” I say quietly, “If we’re going to shirk my sister tribe’s hospitality, the least we could do was to make our own food.”

She freezes, looking at me briefly, pressing her lips together. “From what?”

“We’ll go fishing,” I tell her with a shrug. “Enough for a few days, and then share it as an apology.”

“Now?” her tone is incredulous.

“Yes, now,” I reply. “Unless you want to go hungry until tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she agrees, looking for all the world like I’ve not just done her a favour.

“Katsuo. Our trapping expedition will have to wait until tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods. “No problem here,” he says, eyes bouncing between Mai and me. I shake my head at him. There’s nothing between us but the brat.

Which I am glad not to have said out loud.

“Right then,” I turn towards the ship. “Hiraku!”

His head pops over the crow’s nest’s brim. “Come fishing with us!”

Without a word, he clambers down. Gorou appears at my shoulder. “I’m coming with you.”

I look at him more closely. Why would he want to spend even more time in my vicinity, when he evidently dislikes me? Maybe I’ll find out in a bit.

So where is Circus Girl, then, if almost all the crew is coming? Mai seems to notice my searching. “Ty Lee went to bed. She’s exhausted.”

A wry smile twists the corners of my mouth upwards for a moment. Aren’t we all?

I turn to Hakoda. “Sorry about this,” I say, “But you might want to keep an eye on the two still on the ship while Gorou isn’t here.”

He nods, frowning.

So, then. We’re going fishing.


	18. Fishing

Somehow, I end up doing all the work.

Well, not all of it. Gorou sets up the fireplace and builds a rack for the fish we catch, to eat some immediately, because we’re all still hungry. Especially Haruto, who didn’t even get off the ship for food, perhaps because he was wary about Mai’s screeching. The lout has decided that playing with the brat is a worthwhile contribution to our endeavours. I know he knows that the brat isn’t a normal child.

Then again, they’re both enjoying themselves. If the youngest two of our group can’t even do that, it is a sad day indeed.

And Mai… seems content to watch us all work. I’d forgotten how much of a noble she can be. There hadn’t been any other choice on the ship but to help out where it was needed. Now, seeing as there is someone who does the work, she deigns to grace us with her presence, but little more. Though I doubt that any commentary on her part would be well-received, and that is all she is prone to do at this point. One wouldn’t be able to tell any more at her appearance, but she has the acidic disposition of a noble inside of her, and it looks like it came to the surface tonight.

To be honest, I _am_ the most efficient at catching fish here, since I can scoop them out with the very water they swim in. So it isn’t all that bad. But still. It’s the principle of the thing, isn’t it? Cooperation is what this is all about, in the end.

At least Haruto sits down beside me with interest once Gorou and I begin to clean out the fish we want to eat tonight. Only to turn away once the slippery entrails spill onto the ground. Squeamish, are we?

I snort, and continue my task. It is all a matter of practise. Besides, once you’ve bent the bodily fluids of living people, cleaning out fish isn’t an act that requires much triumph.

Mai pokes a stick into the fire. By now, it’s our only source of light, beyond the stars. So gentile after that storm. Still the remnants of its energy tingle along my arms.

“So,” Gorou finally raises his voice, breaking the silence, “When do you intend to move on to Ba Sing Se?”

“Already tired of the Bay?” I ask in return, and he shrugs. “Well. At the very least we stay here for two to four more days. I need to speak with Hakoda again, and Katsuo is going to show me some of their damaged traps. During the invasion, my squad set up a few interesting and quite effective ones.”

“You mean deadly,” Mai says, voice cold, “I heard the waters in front of the city were red with blood and bits of flesh.”

I meet her furious gaze with narrowed eyes. “Yes. I suppose that’s what a good trap is meant to be. Since, after all, the invading forces did not show any mercy either.”

She has no right to be angry about the deaths of Fire Nation soldiers when we were defending ourselves. We did not attack the Fire Nation. They came to invade us after a hundred years of war out of which we kept our squeaky clean fingers – until then – because Aang came to learn waterbending from us.

And both sides paid the price for it. Perhaps things could have been different had we had agents that relayed news to the far North. We could have sent a master and an escort to teach the Avatar without leading the Fire Nation to our city. Then again, it wouldn’t have been a guarantee for the city’s continued existence.

We are fortunate it did not turn out worse, with more than the almost bearable – population-wise – losses we suffered.

The Fire Nation was burnt – forgive the pun – badly. I can only hope they’ll not attempt another invasion any time soon. We can only hope the Fire Nation treats it as they did Ba Sing Se. The great defeat of the Dragon of the West meant that Ba Sing Se became the impenetrable city. Perhaps Admiral Jhao’s failure will allow my people some of the same supposed safety.

Finally, she averts her eyes. I do not know what she thinks of my response. I do not care to know.

I go back to cleaning out the fish. The wet squelch as the organs fall on top of the ones of the previous fish is barely audible above the crackle of the fire, the lap of the waves against the shore. And yet, it is so fitting to describe the current situation.

It is odd to sit at a shoreline, a beach, and not worry about hypothermia, or getting a cold.

“So,” Gorou says and begins to spear the cleaned-out fish with the prepared skewers. “Ba Sing Se. What do you intend to do there?”

I deliberate for a moment. I won’t tell them about the two people I hope to meet there. Or at the very least, I will not tell Mai. That I have known where Zuko and his uncle are all along without telling will be another reason for her to resent me. Although reasonably, I could not know about her feelings for him, since neither she nor Circus Girl ever speak of him. Not, that I would know what they do speak about.

“Well. It’s time the Earthking was properly informed of the state his kingdom is in, don’t you think?”

Mai gasps softly and turns away, whereas Gorou begins to smile. It’s a terrifying expression on the man.

“How would you even gain an audience?” Haruto asks, awed, pausing in his finger games with the brat.

I shrug. “I have my ways.” I fully expect Aang, Katara and Sokka to arrive in Ba Sing Se relatively soon after we do. “The Earthking himself isn’t actually the one who needs to be persuaded. From what I hear, the capital itself is controlled by the Dai Li. It also isn’t the place from which I would launch a counter-attack.”

“Counter attack!” Mai bursts out, “How would that even work? There hasn’t been a proper one for fifty years!”

“High time, don’t you think?” I return and set the skewer on top of the contraption Gorou built together with the man himself holding the other side of it. “Before the comet arrives, at the very least.”

“Comet?” Gorou asks, in time with Haruto.

I hadn’t gotten as far to explain to the boy what a comet is.

“Haruto, you remember those theories about planets and so on?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the comet is a large object that moves around our world in a hundred-year-cycle. The Fire Nation named it Sozin’s Comet a hundred years ago. Before then, I imagine it was something like the Great Comet or Ball of Fire. It circles this planet in an ellipse and comes close enough to lend firebenders incredible power whenever it does. If we don’t counterattack by the time it’s here, the war is over, one way or another.”

“Planet…” Gorou murmurs even as his face takes on a far darker expression than before my explanation.

“How do you know about that?” Mai questions. It’s as though she believes anyone who isn’t from the Fire Nation is an uneducated lout.

“The Northern Watertribe hasn’t forgotten how all of this began, you know? The genocide of the airbenders was only possible with this power on hand. Then again, I do think the monks were trapped inside their temples somehow, or some would have escaped. But we haven’t been there to investigate. Maybe Aang can tell me more when I next see him. Or perhaps an agent of the White Lotus.”

I may have said this in such a casual manner, but seeing her, as she sits there, fully believing, after everything that happened, that the Fire Nation is in the right, I am getting angry.

“You _are_ aware of who started this, aren’t you?” I question, voice cutting. “You must know that all of this began with one man’s desire to expand his realm.”

“The air nomads were going to attack the Fire Nation. That’s why we had to strike first,” she replies calmly, as though she were telling the absolute truth.

I open my mouth to make her _see how wrong she is to believe in what she has said_ , but Gorou speaks first. “Now, I’ve not been formally educated, or at all really, but even I know that’s a lie. Now would someone tell me what the White Lotus is?”

Ah. Whoops.

“So… there’s this secret organisation of masters of their art from all corners of the world who call themselves the White Lotus. Don’t tell anyone.”

Silence greets this. Mai looks to be doubting both the validity of that statement, as well as my last vestiges of sanity. Gorou is wearing a funny half-smile that can’t decide between malice and disbelief. Haruto seems uncertain, as he does about anything and the brat begins to snicker. Loudly.

Well, if that’s how he decides to call attention to himself, so be it.

“How would you have gotten out of that one, then?”

He begins to laugh in earnest. Mocking laughter from a toddler is somehow so much worse than the usual kind. Reincarnated or not, to be the subject of a baby’s ridicule is almost too much for even me.

Then again… what do normal babies laugh at?

It seems I won’t ever find out.

What I will find out, within the next hour, is what the brat wants for his future and whether I should consider him when I deal with Mai. Speaking of, she is staring with an intensity that borders on Gorou’s. Lovely.

With a sigh, I hook two fingers into the brat’s collar, and lift him so that we may have a private conversation a few feet along the shore.

“Where are you going?” Mai asks, suspicious as ever.

“To have a conversation,” I tell her sharply before raising a dome of ice around the brat and myself with a flick of the wrist.

“Now,” I say, setting the reincarnated toddler on his feet. “What do I do with you?”

He huffs. “ _You_ do nothing,” he says, with a lisp that would be endearing to anyone not in the know. A dull thud indicates Mai’s first attempt at breaking through the ice. I decide to let her.

“Alright, then. So you’ll quietly join your sister in returning to the Fire Nation?” I crouch before him.

His large eyes slide away, only to encounter his mirror image in the glacial dome. He frowns, and it looks more like a pout than the displeased expression of a controlled adult. He really is far too adorable to pull that off. Unlike me.

When he looks back at me, and sees a frown of my own on my face, he scowls.

Far too cute. But. Adult conversation. Remain professional.

“Is that a no?” I ask, clarifying. Another thud reminds me of Mai. It might be fun to see what she does when she breaks through. She might attempt to kill me.

He crosses his arms over his small chest. “Who says she’s going back?”

I lean forward, bringing our faces close. “You did hear our earlier conversation, didn’t you?”

Another huff. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like Mai would be forgiven so easily for not murdering you in your sleep, as far as the princess is concerned.”

That lisp needs to go if he ever wants to be treated seriously. It is very odd to have to treat him as an adult when he looks like this. And, who knows, perhaps my childish behaviour when I was his age was also due to the fact that I was in a child’s body. Then again, it was expected of me and people tend to behave in accordance to the expectations the people surrounding them have of them.

“So then, if not the Fire Nation, where will she go?”

He remains silent. Perhaps he hasn’t thought about it too much. The fact that he is a toddler doesn’t allow him much alone time. And so, no time to actually think things through properly. To be constantly watched… I didn’t enjoy it the first time around. Which was why I went out and pranked the elders. After a time, my mother would treat my disappearances with a roll of her eyes. We thought we were safe inside the city.

We were, to a point.

“I intend to go to Ba Sing Se. Do you want me to take you with me, should your sister decide not to accompany me?” That city however, is not safe for anyone inside of it. To think that refugees enter it with such high hopes, and only under the condition of their compliance and wilful ignorance to they receive what they came for.

“Why?” his tone is that of a person sceptical of your motives. Understandable. We don’t know each other. Not really.

“Isn’t it obvious?” it should be. I would’ve thought it was.

“I need you to say it.”

With a sigh, I heed his demand. “I’ve never met another knowingly reincarnated person before. You’re the only one who would not think me insane, if I spoke about where I come from. I imagine you desire the same. To be understood.”

He huffs once more, but looks far less uncertain. “Fine. But you won’t have to kidnap me.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ll make her go,” he says it with conviction, as though it weren’t a problem. With the way Mai has been hacking against the ice, he might be right.

I decide not to ask how. “Alright.”

“By the way,” he says, voice sweet, “What’s your name?”

The question forces the air from my lungs. Wide-eyed, I turn to look at him fully again. “I used to be called William.”

He chuckles. “Peter.”

I offer my hand, “Good to meet you.”

His small, pudgy fingers wrap around two of mine and we shake. “I’ll say.”

Which is when Mai’s metal stilettos finally break through the ice.

“You!” she shouts, pointing at me.

“Me,” I repeat and let go of her little brother’s hand.

“An’ me,” Peter says, as though to state all the facts. Not, that we’re doing that.

Mai staggers close and fists the front of my tunic harshly, making me stand.

“You need to stop!” she shouts, “All of this is your fault! Yours and you only keep making it worse! With your plans! And bending! And taking control of Tom-Tom’s life!”

She releases me and looks at her brother, shoulders slumping and defeated all of a sudden without my interference. “And you… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Peter looks hurt then, just for a moment before he clears his expression of it.

“I’m your brother,” he says slowly, lisped words winding themselves out of his mouth with the voice of a child in the disconcerting manner of an adult, “And I was born with another set of memories.”

Silence.

Mai sits down on the ground where she stands. Haruto and Gorou, still by the fireplace a few feet away are watching with open interest.

The water continues to lap against the shoreline.

Mai turns her head to look up at me. “You too?” she asks, voice hoarse and bleak.

In answer, I shrug. There is little point in denying it now. However, I won’t voluntarily give out much more information about my circumstances. Not in regards to this reincarnation business.

“But it’s a foreign language you spoke,” she murmurs, thinking out loud. “How long ago have you lived?”

It seems that Mai has seized the vague explanation with both hands and is going to ride the wave of belief to the end.

Once more, I shrug. “Can’t say.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know? You know all these other, secret things… is this how you know about the comet? And plannets,” she pronounces the word funnily, “And the White Lotus? You know these things because you’ve lived before and now… Free Education and all the other things you said you wanted-“ she cuts herself off, shaking her head slowly.

“Some things I learned in this life. Many things, actually. I’ve never really thought about why I retained my memories, but I did wonder about how. I never reached a satisfying conclusion. What I do know is that in this life, to make a difference is my goal. To give Aang a better chance at saving millions of lives comes first. Freedom and everything it entails next. It’s a work of many lifetimes, I’m sure, but I don’t mind being part of that. It gives my life meaning,” I smile somewhat ironically, “I don’t know about your brother, though.”

She looks at Peter almost as though she were only working on auto-pilot any longer.

“Making a difference sounds nice,” he says, smiling. “Worthwhile.”

So then, an ally, after all, I think, wistful all of a sudden.

“Freedom?” Gorou asks from the fireplace, voice sceptical. “You really think it’s possible?”

“Why not?” I smile.

He begins to laugh.

“How?” Haruto ignores the sinister man with a scowl, showing close interest.

“Provocation of thought,” I reply, and feel like a bit of a lecturer. “Once people begin to question why they slave under others and hear that there is others like them who are creating such a free world where equality no longer matters, they’ll want part of it. Education is a large part of this. Changing the way people think isn’t done over night. But for the individual it can happen in an instant.”

Gorou has stopped laughing. “You’ll never manage to get greedy people to change their minds.”

“Greedy like you, pirate?” Haruto spits and stands to march off.

Gorou snatches his wrist and yanks him close. “We all make our way,” he hisses loud enough for me to hear, “In this world as best we can. And you, little boy, have never _truly_ suffered. What I have seen and done in the name of greed is nothing compared to what I’ve done in the name of my freedom!”

He releases Haruto’s wrist almost violently and stands to turn to face me fully. “Freedom for the oppressed is what you want. What of the oppressors?”

A calm smile tugs at my mouth. So much smiling today. “I can take a man’s head off with a thought if I feel he deserves it. But it takes much for me to feel that it is deserved. So you see, all of us here are still alive, and once we were each other’s captives. Can we claim to have all relinquished those titles of oppressors?”

A slow smile spreads over his face. “When you begin that revolution of yours, I want to be there.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“Actively?”

“Oh yes,” his smile turns bloodthirsty. It seems Gorou has a few people in mind for beheading.

Thoughts racing, I nod once and stand. “Okidoki.”

After a moment’s hesitation I hold out a hand for Mai to pull herself to her feet with. She stares at it, half with disbelief, half with disbelief that borders on disgust.

Then, she takes it. How odd. It seems to me that the world has begun to spin at another speed and my motions are easy as I pull her to her feet. I’m sure this will be a moment I think back on often.

.

I hum under my breath as we walk back to the camp. Something good came of this evening, after all.

Certainty in regards to the brat. Peter. I should begin calling him Peter.

But Gorou…

The man is terrifying. It isn’t the way he walks. That’s not it.

It’s what he doesn’t say.

All this time, he’s been watching, assessing and with my last declaration he reached a conclusion that drove him to action. So suddenly, all I could do was to take in his smile. His mouth, always wide, then wider with slightly yellowed teeth showing their irregularity. His light brown eyes shone with something akin to conviction and-

Spirits. Conviction in what? What have I unwittingly convinced him of? My behaviour has never been the most consistent, or even according to a single morality. My conscience will allow me one thing and condemn the next while my mind scrambles to get a hold of itself – myself. What I do has no bearing on what I do next.

Truly, Gorou scares me.

None of this I allowed to the surface. And still, I won’t.

I’ll need some time to think on what this means. For me, for Peter, Haruto…

What about Gorou’s minions? I’d rather they weren’t permanent additions to Gorou’s presence. He’s headache enough on his own when he smiles like that. I realise it’s the latent violence that shines through then more distinct than usual. He’s seen too much of it for it not to have seeped into his very being. Much, like I imagine I seem at times.

The camp is lit brightly upon our return, and almost everyone is drunk. I don’t know why I’m surprised. These are watertibe people.

.

The next morning, leaving behind the mercy of the shade the tent provides, I squint at the glittering, gentle waves lapping at the beach.

How deceptive.

Buniq is crouching before a steaming pot. The smell wafts over and I barely dare get my hopes up. Yugoda’s special brew?

Please let it be true.

She turns to look at me, sensing the approach of another person. Good. She hasn’t forgotten that lesson. “Tea?”

“Please,” I say, and crouch beside her. “I haven’t had it in so long.”

“Who am I to deny you this?” she laughs. I must have sounded more desperate than I thought.

“Who indeed,” I reply as I take the cup she gives me, inhaling the scent.

This is how Mai finds us, crouching before the fireplace and sipping steaming hot tea.

Buniq takes one look at Mai’s face and makes herself scarce. Coward.

“We must leave immediately,” Mai insists. And yet, before her determined and commanding aura I feel no compulsion to do as she demands. The tea is far more compelling. Even without it, I wouldn’t listen to her. I’ve work to do, and I don’t mind spening more time in the company of sister-tribesmen. They tell grand stories and understand life in the cold. None of the warmth here is taken for granted, even after years of the same weather. More, the nostalgia for snowy landscapes has set in.

“Why must we?” I blink at her slowly.

She scrutinises my face, then turns and stalks off in Gorou’s tent’s direction. Well. Let’s see if I’ll still have a ship in a few days. Perhaps I should not have shaken up the foundation much of her identity is built upon. After all, Fire Nation propagates to their children from a very early age. It will be as much a part of her identity as her personality is.

Then again, I felt it was necessary she heard these things. To at the very least understand how violently opposed the rest of the world is to this doctrine. And why that is.

I may have done atrocious things that night of the invasion, but they were done with the understanding that we were defending our homes and our families and friends. Everything we hold dear. And so I don’t feel guilt over the deaths of the enemy that I caused. Ultimately, everyone must be responsible for themselves. To deny the ability of humans to choose for themselves is to make them slaves.

The only thing I am guilty of is underestimating the enemy and relying on half-knowledge.

While there is also some pity for those killed that night, there is more for those who mindlessly follow, those who do not think for themselves, those who are not allowed and never taught. There are many. And I get the feeling that there are even more in the Fire Nation.

There is also the fact to consider that Mai, after last night, will need some time to assemble all of this new information about her brother and myself. It is easier to concentrate on the less world-shattering revelations of the night, I imagine. It has been a truth of my life for so long that the improbability of it no longer concerns me. I am here. I live.

Life is change.

“How’d you manage to piss her off that much?” Katsuo asks from behind me.

I don’t immediately turn to face him as I empty the last of my tea and get to chopping up the readied sea prune before me. Buniq must have been intending to cook up a stew.

Quickly, with a few precise bending motions, the prune is in bite-sized pieces. I hear a sigh, as I add it to the stew. The pot above the fire will need a few hours now, to be palatable for our delicate companion’s taste buds. I taste-test the seasoning. Very delicate, presumably with Peter in mind. As a child, he will be very unused to the taste, and even though it is edible, I won’t force him. Besides, this is a variation of the Northern Watertribe’s most famous broth, and so I’m curious to see the reception of my travelling companions.

“We spoke openly yesterday,” I say, getting to my feet, “It’s been long-coming.”

Katsuo frowns at me. “Why are you travelling together, then?”

“There was necessity for it. And the brat…”

He laughs softly. “So you do have a heart.”

I am silent for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“No worries. No one would believe me anyhow.”

“Right. Let’s get a look at those traps, then, shall we?”

He nods, and we move to shore where Buniq is waiting. It seems she is taking Hakoda’s suggestions to heart. Good. The more capable benders are in the Bay, the less pirates or Fire Nation will manage to enter.

It is only common sense.

.

“Kaito,” Bato says, “Hakoda wants to speak with you alone.”

Well. Lovely, doesn’t that sound ominous? I tap my pipe to the stone I’m sitting on to empty out the ashes then I move around the fireplace to Hakoda. He stands at my approach and beckons me to follow.

Once we are clear of all others and potentially listening ears, he turns to face me.

“You intend to bring two Fire Nation nobles into the city of Ba Sing Se? Three, if you count the child you have an attachment to. Not to mention three – or is it four – pirates?”

So the cat’s out of the bag, then. “It sounds so unreasonable when you put it like that.”

He raises his brows. “Does it?”

I sigh. “It does. But all of us fear prosecution in the form of the Fire Nation princess, Azula. And I have reason to believe that her brother, the exiled prince will be in the city. So, no matter who else joins him there, it will be the centre of pivotal events in the war. Azula is dangerous and clever enough to make your presence here obsolete. More people, capable of successfully standing in her way, standing in her way would be beneficial to us all.”

“I see.”

“You… do?” His silence is telling.

Finally, he opens his mouth to respond. “I do. Now tell me about my children.”

“I can only tell you what I’ve observed.”

“That’s a given.”

“I’m not very observant.”

“I find that hardly believable.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrug, having gained enough time to order my thoughts. It has been some time since I last saw them, after all. “Sokka… is learning to be responsible for more than his own circumstances. He’s already very good at it. He is innovative and has his heart in the right place. That is, if you trust my judgement on that. He’s a good fighter. Far better than me without my bending and when he is up against a bender, he accounts very well for their advantage.”

Hakoda’s focus does not waver. “And his strategy?”

“In the spur of the moment, I’d follow his over my own.”

He hums. “And Katara?”

I sigh. “She doesn’t like me much, so what I can tell you won’t be who she is most of the time.”

He waits.

“Right. She’s bossy. Unlikely to trust. Hurt easily. Cares deeply. Incredibly determined to get what she wants, as Pakku might have told you already. She’s a prodigious bender. She hates liars. She hates good liars even more. She doesn’t often give second chances.”

“But she gave one to you?”

“Once I had shown her that I wasn’t evil.”

That startles him into laughter.

.

Mai and I are not on speaking terms at the moment. This does not stop her from dumping her brother on me to babysit as she goes off with Circus Girl to do… whatever they do.

Babysitting a grown-up in a child’s body is an odd task. I take care to allow him agency, but at the same time, when he climbs onto a shaky pile of rocks to look into one of the pots above the fire, I need to grab his shirt before he falls face first into the fire.

I’m about to set him down beside me, when the rocks suddenly merge into a pedestal with a small handhold. Gorou. Nice of him.

I set the brat down again and ignore his irritated look as he begins to climb his specially crafted lookout onto the food he refuses to eat. It makes me smile.

My eyes seek out Gorou who has already gone back to his task of enforcing the docks the warriors built. Well, then. He’s certainly attempting to secure goodwill. We shall see where it leads us.

.

_Confrontation with Mai and Circus Girl_

Another evening is spent around the fireplace, getting pissed. Only this time, Circus Girl does not seem to be in the mood for the juggling she did the previous night. Or the smiling.

That was a nice change.

I’ve wandered off some time after I realised that I would not be able to see the light of day in the morning without a severe headache if I didn’t stop then, and had loads of water to drink.

I’ve been followed.

Two Fire Nation nobles and a waterbender standing on the beach.

“We should not go to Ba Sing Se,” Circus Girl rasps.

“If we do, our future is uncertain. With a return to the Fire Nation, we could gain pardons and-“ Mai continues, before my snort cuts her persuasions short.

“Do I look like I’d be happy to have been pardoned by the Fire Nation? More, do you think the princess will agree to it? I was the one to injure her, after all. She would want nothing more than to even the score,” I mean, seriously. Did I not make abundantly clear that I will not sacrifice my freedom, much less to people who have committed genocide and teach their children lies?

It is very, very unlikely that I would even see more than the inside of a tin can once they found out who I was.

I decide to be a little cruel. They would need the extra push to agree to my most outrageous demand yet.

“If that’s all you can think of, you might want to reflect on how desperately you want your princess back,” I let it settle in for just long enough to properly turn around, “Is she someone you can depend on _no matter what_?”

Circus Girl looks ready to puff up indignantly, while Mai’s eyes narrow.

“Because if there is doubt that she would not help you if you have made a mistake, or if she would condemn you for agreeing to something such as a hostage exchange for your own little brother, is she someone you really want to have around?”

And while they digest that, I throw the real gauntlet, “Would she, if she thought she needed to reassert her dominance over you, beat you into the ground? Would she stomp on your self-esteem? Would she close off all other support systems but herself in order to make you dependent on her?”

“No! No, of course she wouldn’t!” Circus Girl protests loudly in her croaky voice.

“Really? Hasn’t she done all those things already? Why do you want her back so desperately, if she hasn’t made herself so very important to your very sense of self? I happen to like her much better this far away.”

She flinches back.

“When someone else’s desires constitute your own happiness it’s either called love,” and I raise my brows at that sceptically, “Or tyranny.”

Circus Girl’s mouth becomes a thin line. Wordlessly, she turns and leaves.

Mai, somehow more exhausted than when this began, as though I had tired them out once more, as though I had revealed new information, follows her friend without another word.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I turn to look at Buniq instead of Mai’s retreating back in the glimmer of the firelight. “We’re not together.”

She looks confused, but it is only for appearance’s sake. “But the child…”

“The brat’s her brother. But he seems to like me well enough,” I shrug. Mai is going to drive me mad. I just know it.


	19. Patience of the Furious

Hakoda is a man with a keen mind and excellent strategic planning capabilities.

Had the storm not hit them earlier than they had predicted and prepared for, Bato’s crew would have never been forced to free themselves from the sloppy mooring. Miraculously, no one died as a result of this. Hakoda is no stranger to casualties. He hadn’t expected to see any of them again.

Thanks to a Northern waterbender, he had. A young man, so very easily misjudged. And in parts, Hakoda is sure, the first impression wasn’t too far off the mark. But pinning Kaito’s personality and convictions down is a tricky endeavour, even without the added difficulty of too little time and too much caution between them.

He isn’t the only paranoid man in this camp, and alliances in the small foreign group of eight are shifting constantly. The atmosphere alone amongst them is an indication of the circumstances that force them together. Hakoda is aware of the fact that Kaito never shared the entire tale of how they came to be in the Bay at exactly the right time with him and Bato, Katsuo and Buniq. Both Hakoda and Kaito are acutely aware that Kaito does not owe Hakoda any kind of report that doesn’t concern his children or his command.

Even the relationships between Kaito and Buniq and Katsuo seem to have fogged over in time and the invasion when opinions on character were shifted. He knows how the most useless man can become the one to save ten others. He knows how competent people falter in the face of slaughter.

Hakoda has come to believe that there is nothing that will mark a man good or evil as much as his actions in war. He does not condemn cowards. He does, however abhor those who exploit the circumstances war generates. He cannot tell with Kaito whether he does the latter or not, but he intends to find out. After all, the fate of his children might be determined by this information.

And the Avatar. And the world.

He sighs. High stakes. The world less so than his gambling with Sokka and Katara’s lives.

In peacetime, things are different.

Hakoda has spoken with Katsuo and Buniq about those few days before the Northern Watertribe was invaded and after. Not only for their knowledge of Fire Nation strategies, but for an impression of what his children might have seen.

He can feel his anger at Sokka and Katara being put in danger rise again. No matter that with the princess they should have been protected well. However, not as well as they would have been had they never entered that city. In the end, they had been in danger, more so than on their travels with the Avatar that Hakoda still isn’t sure he approves of. He’s never met the boy and although Bato tells him that he is, at heart a good person, even if he is desperately lonely, he did not behave as an Avatar should when he did not honestly and immediately hand over the letter Hakoda sent to his second-in-command. That they are at war makes that act worse. He may be only twelve, but responsibility rests on his shoulders, just as it does on Hakoda and every other person who does not want to die at the hands of the Fire Nation.

Of course he is aware that Sokka and Katara have chosen to travel with the Avatar of their own volition, but he also knows that no child of his would be capable of ignoring this opportunity to see the world and fight for what is right. The fact remains however, that they have seen far more than they should have. A few deaths, probably, and too much blood.

Hakoda takes a deep breath and expels it through his nose. It is a pointless anger. He can do nothing to change these facts.

According to Katsuo, his children were with the Avatar at all times, and the princess.

Apparently, Sokka fancied her. This young woman, having become the moon in a self-sacrifice to save the entire world, had been Kaito’s friend as well. Katsuo was unclear on how close they had been, but there was another person who spoke of the princess.

Hakoda isn’t often pleasantly surprised. Less so by individuals rather than circumstances.

In the case of the joining of the Northern Watertribe into the war, it was slightly more than even astonishment, akin to disbelief. It was furthered by the honest and official apology extended to him as the representative of the South, as well as the promise of aid in rebuilding their tribe. All this, delivered in the form of a waterbending master who had much to say about Hakoda’s children. Later, in the privacy of Hakoda’s tent, he had spoken of the invasion, and, at Hakods’a prompting, of princess Yue.

“An exceptional young lady,” the old master had said, allowing the sadness in his voice to be heard for once. “She wanted to become chief,” he continued and smiled slightly, “And intended on dragging my former student into her political machinations.”

His tone had been indicative of what this former student of his had thought of that idea. Pakku had gone on to divulge that he was glad this young man, friend and sparring partner and legacy was with Hakoda’s children.

“Not, that they cannot take care of themselves exceptionally well,” Pakku said, tone slightly derisive as memory clouded his eyes, and Hakoda brushed his own bristling aside in order to focus on the warm glow of pride in Sokka and Katara, “But Kaito is the kind of resourceful that the Avatar and his friends will find aids them greatly. I’m certain you’ve already had word of General Fong’s bastion. It appears they made quite an exit.”

Naturally, Hakoda had heard. He had been glad, before hearing about the events there, that while it lasted his children had been in the hands of responsible adults, and in one heavily protected place for a period of time. He shared a wry and tired smile with the other man, but couldn’t help his curiosity. He never was very good at that. And, he supposed, he should understand any part of his children’s lives that he could. “What is he like, then? Who are my children travelling with?”

He pushed the stab of loneliness and the ache of separation away, as he often must to listen to a new aspect of Katara and Sokka’s lives. It’d been slightly worse, when Bato told him the story of how they’d decided to come with him, and been deterred by their own big hearts. He’d been proud.

And very lonely.

So it is with care that he approaches this versatile young man, with caution that he treats the sharp mind hiding behind that half-lidded stare and slow speech.

He’d been a prankster as a child, unrepentant and only saw reason when his own father died at the hands of a Fire Nation attack on the routine patrol. He’d always been a bending prodigy, Pakku had said, but had refused to rest on those laurels. He’d been part of the key strategic manoeuvres to thwart the enemy’s foray into the city.

And he’d lost two friends to the people of two of the companions he travels with now. If Hakoda were privy to the future, he would very much like to see how that turns out. He imagines, not well.

Kaito is busy with Katsuo and Buniq, practising some kind of new bending technique with them that he thinks would be good to know for them. Buniq attempted to describe bending to him once, but Hakoda thought his own daughter had been better at it as a child.

Sometimes children could be so very insightful.

Kaito notes his approach immediately, turning his head to acknowledge him, even as he continues to explain how he found out about this new technique.

“… once I realised that I could bend with a crook of my finger the step to an eyebrow to make Pakku’s life harder wasn’t far off, you know?”

Buniq looks slightly ill at the last part of that statement while Katsuo’s face seems to have firmly settled into resignation.

“You’ve got to let of your connection of bending with motions of your limbs and body. That’s not quite true, though. There always needs to be some movement. But it doesn’t matter which part of you does it,” Kaito shrugs, and with it a tendril of water winds its way from the ocean towards them. He rolls his shoulder to coax it closer and turns his head to have it wind around Katsuo.

“See?”

Buniq, looking determined, nods. “How do we begin?”

“However you like,” is the easy reply, “I began with my fingers and toes. Wriggling is something you can do for a long time without getting tired.”

He demonstrates and the tendril of water shivers on its way back into the ocean with the crooking of one long finger.

Katsuo’s expression has not changed. Hakoda hopes that it will go back to normal once Kaito has left his vicinity. He’d hate to have to look at that kind of face for very long.

“Now that my lovely students are properly occupied, what can I do for you, chief?” Kaito asks, ignoring Buniq’s glare.

Hakoda leads the way to one of the unoccupied firepits. They sit, and Hakoda decides to be direct. Caution does not preclude the honesty of intentions. He thinks Kaito will appreciate not having to slowly circle the topic of conversation.

“What are your plans for Ba Sing Se?”

Kaito’s mouth twists into a half-smile, of which only parts are unconstructed. “You make it sound as though I held any influence over the city or its occupants. I have never even set foot in uncontested Earthkindgom territory. Any predictions I made for, hypothetically, poking at the Dai Li would be wishful thinking at best.”

Dangerous. Hakoda has had contact with an agent of the organisation who came as the representative of the Earthking. It had been clear that the agent, while bringing the Earthking’s thanks and offers of regular supplies for the warriors, he had also carried a warning. It had been a warning not to come too close to the city. A warning not to disturb the peace.

And that, more than anything, made Hakoda believe that there were people in power in the Impenetrable City who did not wish for a change in the balance of power, however skewed it was. He finds very little understanding for this within himself, as the chief of a small people who were once great, he has no need for power as they hold it.

He has no need for wealth when survival was a harsh enough struggle.

Which is why, when he considers what the young man in front of him has just said, he has a great many responses, ranging from calling him an idiot to questioning the wisdom of poking a fat, greedy dragon in its personal domain. But, as he is beginning to see, Kaito takes delight in irritating those around him and would have a response of his own ready. So, all Hakoda does say in the end is “As an enemy, or ally?”

For a short moment, he sees surprise in the slight widening of lazy eyes.

“I should hope as allies, don’t you think, chief?” he asks, sounding as though he believes the likelihood of it to be very close to non-existent.

Hakoda understands why. The agent was so lacking in expressions of emotion that he can’t believe that what the Dai Li does is at all very palatable. The question is, how does Kaito know of all this? Pakku hadn’t mentioned the Dai Li at all, only that there hadn’t been word of the representative of the Northern Watertribe they had sent to Ba Sing Se. He had said it with as much concern as he would show a near-stranger.

But as allies against the Fire Nation go, there aren’t many to choose from.

Hakoda gives Kaito a look that is half-smile, half-concern. After all, he suspects his children will be involved in this somehow. “The Dai Li thanked the Southern Watertribe in our aid in keeping the peace in Ba Sing Se,” he chooses to say and watches with fascination as the knowledge is assimilated.

“How polite,” the bender responds absently before his focus returns to Hakoda, “Has the Earthking been in contact?”

That means Kaito definitely separates Dai Li from Earthking and does not believe their interests necessarily align. If Kaito is correct in his assessments, the situation in Ba Sing Se might be worse than Hakoda himself can anticipate with the little he knows with certainty. Puppet leaders have never lived for long once social unrest becomes unbearable. And if Kaito is anything, he is an entity of unrest, even as he appears to require copious amounts of motivation for any task set before him.

“Not separately,” Hakoda replies truthfully. “Do you intend to meet him?”

“Me?” Katio laughs, “No, I’ll leave meeting the royals to the Avatar. People of power and myself don’t go well together.”

And yet, he had been friends with the princess of the Northern Watertribe, hadn’t he? He was the person Pakku trusted most to protect the Avatar of all people.

“What makes you think the Avatar will be headed there?” Hakoda has to ask. He thinks he can be forgiven when his paranoia concerns his children.

And, secondarily, the fate of the world.

Kaito shrugs and fishes a pipe from his tunic. He begins to pack it, “Even if Aang, Sokka and Katara have been disillusioned about the people in charge in the Earthkingdom, there is still the matter of seeking allies. Contrary to popular belief, the Avatar can’t save the entire world on his own,” he states it simply as the truth. Hakoda wonders which of his actions Kaito justifies as the cause for helping the Avatar.

“And I still don’t know whether he has found an earthbending teacher. If he hasn’t, no matter how dangerous the city is, Ba Sing Se holds the most proficient and dangerous benders within its walls,” Kaito continues and pauses to light the pipe with practised motions, “Aside from perhaps Gorou.”

At the mention of the quiet man, Kaito seems almost uncomfortable.

“Gorou, more dangerous than Dai Li?”

Hakoda can’t quite connect the thought to a fact.

“I can only tell you what I’ve seen. But he’s taken on five firebenders and won. He managed to bend precisely while half-delirious from fever, and never once have I seen him afraid,” Kaito murmurs, as though he suspects the subject of their conversation might pop up at any moment. “And he’s got things he wants to change.”

Hakoda isn’t sure why that last sentence sounds like the most dreadful of them all.

Kaito glances at him, and sighs. “He’s decided to stick close to me because of my grand aspirations for social reformation and transformation of the system.”

He sounds resigned. Every young man Hakoda has met with those kinds of dreams has either been naively optimistic or furious. Kaito seems more and more intriguing by the moment. “Which would be…?”

“It’d take too long to explain every detail, so I’ll give you an overview,” he sends a wryly amused glance Hakoda’s way and as he speaks he makes certain to pause for long enough to allow for comprehension in between sentences, “I believe that every person is equal to the next. There is nothing that founds the belief that there should be aristocracy or a ruling class at all. Even when you take bending into account, it is only another skill that some might employ, but it does not make benders another race. In the end, what I want is to create a system within which the individual governs themselves, and the community is not riddled with differences in power, be it socially or economically. At the very least, wealth should not constitute the right to rule and ruthlessness should not constitute the right to wealth. For this to even come close to fulfilment, education is the key. Freedom of thought, speech and the right to decide for oneself what to do, to say, to think and feel, to believe. All of this should be the norm,” he pauses, watches Hakoda’s reaction to the words, and draws on his pipe. Hakoda isn’t certain he can comprehend the enormity of these changes as easily as Kaito has voiced them. Hakoda isn’t certain he even understands all the critique within the desire to change things.

Certainly, war is bad. He’d be rather pleased if it were to end. And he realises that in communities larger than his own, wealth is a large factor for social benefits. Money can buy anything that is desired, even forms of love and in places where there is no real enforcement of a moral code that Hakoda would call good, money can even secure freedom from prosecution for what most would consider crimes.

He isn’t clear on where his right to believe what he wants is infringed upon that it should make the list. Perhaps he cannot understand, as the leader of a small community of warriors who largely desire the same things he does.

“It’s an ideal,” Kaito goes on, “What we have now is the blatant profiteering of the war within the walls of Ba Sing Se. The refugees enter the city, desperate for work, for safety and a home. This keeps the numbers of workers up and it makes it so that they are cheaply paid in order to insure the greater profit of the business owner. Education is restricted to those who can afford it. Which means that because the gap between the workers and the educated in terms of wealth is so large, workers will hardly have the chance to reflect upon their circumstances if they do not wish to starve. These are very real existential fears. And those who dare to question and point out the war that is creeping to its doorstep are silenced by the Dai Li.”

Kaito shrugs, eyes sharp for once with… Hakoda can’t name the emotion. What he does know is that it is dangerous. It is dangerous, and he sees now why he is the one the others of his small group follow, however reluctantly.

“And that’s just an overview of Ba Sing Se. We don’t know enough about the Fire Nation to even begin thinking about change,” he sighs, returning to his usual slightly apathetic expression. He leans backwards slightly. “Change is only ever brought about with power to change.”

He huffs a laugh, looking far older than about Sokka’s age. He wonders if this is what a person looks like who observes injustice every day and has decided to no longer tolerate it as a given.

“And who has that power?” Kaito goes on to muse. “I should think the Dai Li does. I wonder if I could convince the leader to go against the fascism and institutionalised classism. Probably not. So, in the end, there will have to be a shift in power. I don’t claim to be morally untainted enough to believably tell you that I hope this will go over without blood. But I don’t anticipate the violence as Gorou does. And I dread the day when I will have to point him at a target and he won’t even mind.”

Kaito closes his eyes, breathing out slowly. His face is set into a grim frown. “And I can’t help but wonder, at the end of it, who I’ll be. If I’ll be able to tolerate my own self.”

Hakoda… doesn’t have an answer for him.

But he has made a decision.

He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a small, circular object. Together with a scroll, he holds them out to Kaito.

“The letter is for my children. Master Pakku said you would know what to do with this.”

Kaito opens his eyes to look at the objects, and slowly stretches out a hand to take them both. He looks almost amused. “Sly old man,” he mutters, and smiles.

Hakoda knows that the young man before him has the will to force about change. He only hopes that along the way, he never forgets that old teacher of his. He hopes that he will never forget his last question. Who will he be? Will he be able to live with himself?

.

Detachment mustn’t become condescension, for otherwise in continuing to play the game of conforming to society when convenient becomes hypocrisy.

Acknowledging the usefulness of the game allows for the sensation of superiority that I strive to rid myself of, since that only serves my ego which is entirely unnecessary. Self-worth should be evident in the fact that I alone decide who I am and what to do with that.

Injustice forces open the eyes.

Awareness of choice.

And there is always a choice, even if it is the ultimate unknown. That is, to everyone but me and Peter.

I turn the lotus tile Hakoda gave me over in my palm. The White Lotus.

Perhaps this is Pakku’s way of telling me to get some help. Or perhaps it’s that he’s already told his fellow pai sho lovers that I’m on my way. That’d be just like him. Give me as little room to wriggle as possible.

Then again. What do I know?

When I enter Ba Sing Se, if my purpose is to remain unseen for as long as possible, then posing as a refugee would be the easiest method. There will be monitoring in any case, be it that I manage to infiltrate a group of merchants or anything else. So, temporarily becoming a refugee would entail the least amount of additional effort.

Once inside… it would be necessary to find housing and income. To find suitable work and the right amount of hours to investigate, and make contact with the White Lotus.

If I went to the order first, the Dai Li would take notice. They would take notice if I went regardless, so what might it mean to them if I went just after entering the city?

It would seem like I should avoid it altogether.

Or perhaps make contact with the order before entering Ba Sing Se. They might have some agents inside to lend me a hand at finding accommodations.

Time to find another map.

.

“’S not a good plan,” Peter says. He has planted himself on the sand beside the map. “You dunno if the White Lotus has agents there.”

“If they don’t, that’s that. But if we’re going to pretend to be refugees, then we need to get to Full Moon Bay in any case.”

“Half Moon,” he corrects.

“Right,” I say, content that he doesn’t protest any further.

We contemplate the map for a bit longer.

“Tananga,” I point at the harbour.

“That place is infested with pirates,” Gorou remarks.

“You’re a pirate,” Haruto points out like it wasn’t common knowledge amongst us.

“So you keep reminding me. If you’re not careful, I might begin to remember what it is pirates do to mouthy brats like you.”

It seems that Gorou’s patience has ended where Haruto is concerned. Well, the patience of the furious is never one to be called endless.

Haruto, looking upset, seeks out my gaze. I raise my brows at him. I’m not his guardian. He’s old enough to know when to test Gorou’s limits. Besides, no matter how little I believe in hierarchical structures, Haruto is clearly creating one in seeking my assistance. He has known how harsh the world is his entire life. Now he needs to learn to either spit in the face of it and take the repercussions, or cower.

“So what do you reckon? Will we pass through unscathed?” I ask once Haruto has begun to pout, realising that I won’t be saying anything to Gorou about playing nice.

I like to think I’m not that much of a hypocrite.

Gorou casts a look at the two women who sit opposite him. “Not entirely.”

I consider that for a moment. Mai and Circus Girl aren’t exactly high on my list of priorities. We all know it. But I’m not feeling very vindictive at the moment, or even up for a bit of mild cruelty. There is very real danger to them there, no matter how well they are able to protect themselves. “Where would you recommend we go?”

Surprise all around, even Gorou who at the same time seems quietly pleased with my question. Fucking hell. I really don’t like this odd group mentality. They are beginning to think of themselves as a part of a group instead of simply individuals. This is dangerous. None of us are trustworthy.

Mai is right to question my motives, my moral standing and character. Circus Girl is both the smartest and dumbest of the lot in keeping her distance from me. We have no chance of building trust between us, and that means… that we have no chance of ever understanding each other as it might become very close to necessary if we are going to Ba Sing Se together.

“The smartest thing to do would be to stock up on goods that are sorely needed within the city of Ba Sing Se. Then we enter the city to trade, and because the goods are required, the price will be good, no matter how threatening the Dai Li is. All we will have to do is get someone to forge us a Trader’s Crest that will prove our trustworthiness in the city. Tananga isn’t a bad place to procure something like that. For a price.”

Well. That doesn’t sound too bad. “What kind of price?”

“Most likely, a large sum of money and future promises to smuggle some things into the city.”

“Hm,” I say. That is acceptable, so long as those things never turn out to be human beings or imprisoned animals. “Alright. We will have to set up boundaries for what these things can be. We’ll need a place at the docks of Ba Sing Se. We’ll need to establish a means of communication with both of the Watertribes. We will have to find ways to gain access to the insides of the city to find out just how the Dai Li operates to either subvert their attentions or gain access to them. And I will have to decide on who I trust with the communications, and establishing a foothold in Ba Sing Se at the trading port.”

“Then it’s obvious who must do what,” Circus Girl says.

And yes, I suppose she’s right.

“Haruto and I will be regulars on the trade runs with the ship,” I say. This puts me in direct contact with messengers and the means to organise things in relative privacy.

“I will investigate the Dai Li,” Circus Girl volunteers. At my slightly suspicious glance she crosses her arms. “It’s not right what they do, if they are what you say they are.”

Well. I’m not sure I can trust her morality. But… I can’t to everything at once. I don’t have the time. Which means I must rely on her. Perhaps the one thing I can count on is that she will always look out for Mai’s well-being. If I manage to tie her to the cause, then Circus Girl will be loyal. Sort of.

“Then I will establish a foothold in Ba Sing Se,” Mai says. “I am a former governor’s daughter. This will only be a play from the other side of the board.”

Alright. But who is to say that she will not use those connections to benefit only herself and Circus Girl in regards to returning home to the Fire Nation?

“I will guard you inside the city, and when it is safer, come with Kaito,” Gorou says. “Ebisu and Fon will remain in Tananga to manage the other side of our new trading business.”

Why not? If I can trust Circus Girl to do her part, and Mai, why not those two, so long as there’s a profit in it for them.

Now we require capital to begin the scheme.

It’s a good thing the pirates were the hoarding sort.

.

The goodbye is tearless and quiet. The warriors, while they have warmed up to us a little, are glad to see us go. Buniq and Katsuo are the ones who seem the most reluctant.

“Back in the North, before the whole wall unit and the invasion happened,” Katsuo says, “You said you wanted to talk to me about something. What was it?”

“Ah. It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’d still like to know. It’s been stuck in my head for some reason.”

“Right… it was about Yue. She – don’t tell people, you two – but she was about to break off her engagement with Hahn and gather support on her own to rule the tribe without the political alliance. I wanted to lay some groundwork, make people receptive to the idea. And young people are the ones I’d be able to talk around to it.”

“Really? That’s… interesting. You knew her better, would she have made a good chief?”

“With time, yes. She already had the most important attribute. She cared about the tribe and saw every part as integral and viewed others as worthy and equal int heir own right. Yue would have been good for us.”

“It’s a shame we won’t get to see that.”

“Yes. Yes it is.”


	20. Tananga

The night is lit by heavily shaded lamps, glints of teeth and steel as smoke curls into nostrils and noise steals away hearing.

Mai keeps close to my side as we weave through the market, wary of pickpockets and lecherous eyes clinging to her form beneath the cloak like hot tar, sticky and persistent. Beside her, I am beginning to feel angry. This, more so than anything I have yet seen in this world, is sexual harassment, but from all sides, and normative to the extent that it feels all-too descriptive when I find this to be not as startling as it should be to me.

We debated our purchases and prices beforehand with the crew, so things go relatively smoothly as we barter. That is, until we pass one of the open bars.

There is no warning before a man shoves up behind Mai and grasps her chest and thigh. Her revulsion makes itself known instantly.

I don’t stop her from nailing the man to the wall in short order with her shiny, new stilettos. I merely shoot his companions a half-lidded stare, hands in my wide sleeves, pretending to wait. They are smart enough to assume that I am dangerous, though not smart enough to realise that I am bluffing. If I launch any projectile attack, it would be coming from the drinks in their hands. For which, incidentally, a twitch of my hidden fingers is enough.

Can’t have rumours of a waterbender going around here before they start up in Ba Sing Se, though.

Beneath my mask, I smile. Just enough brain to fear the possibilities, eh? I shan’t complain.

It is satisfying to watch her terrify the offender and the witnesses. Perhaps the screams are a little too pleasing to my ears, but I don’ think it really matters. That man should have been more careful in picking his targets if he wanted to get away with things.

Mai does not deign to speak before we exchange a glance to simply move on from the scene. I will be keeping a closer grip on my sense of bloodbags all around us. It isn’t the full moon, so it isn’t as easy, and there are too many to make out individual people, but I can make certain there won’t be another person taking us by surprise like that. I have a feeling the next person will lose more than the tips of their pinkies.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” one of the equally drunken witnesses asks, ignoring the other man’s screams as some helpful souls cauterize the bleeding rest of the offender’s fingers.

“To a place where your fingers will be crushed to paste,” she assures, and I enjoy the threat coming from her mouth perhaps a bit too much. We move along.

“What are you smiling about?” she hisses, noting how my eyes must crinkle even though my mouth is hidden behind my mask. It seems that my inaction is not entirely appreciated, even though I’m certain she would have made me understand that she can fight her own battles.

“I didn’t think you’d go for the fingers.”

She smiles, all teeth and sadism, “He’s been threatened with mutilated genitals far too often. Let him fear for his existence.”

I hum as we amble off, feeling that Mai has grown into an entirely unexpected set of morals/character traits. Gone is the apathetic fifteen-year-old. In her place is a fierce, slightly sadistic young woman with little, but just enough to lose. It does make me wonder what she’s done with my view of the Fire Nation. She doesn’t appear to have tucked it away in a dark corner of her mind. Instead, she seems to have thought on it, although I can’t tell what conclusions she’s come to.

Similar attempts at her virtue are thwarted, but after the fifth encounter, I offer my arm. This is becoming tedious. Mai seems to agree, but her distaste as she rests her fingers in the crook of my elbow is evident. Her grip is firm, and we move along smoothly. It must grate on her that this sort of thing wasn’t necessary when she was recognisable as a noble in the Fire Nation or its occupied territories. It must grate even worse that it is expected to happen even with the difference in social status, only in hushed tones and less overt looks. The world is not kind, and it is never respectful.

Then again, this is the most amiable we have been since the time we had to free ourselves from Gorou’s captivity. Who knew that it would only take a few broken noses and other minor injuries? We could have been getting along better all this time if we had made port more often to beat up some thugs with no conception of personal space or other people’s boundaries.

I don’t think I’m being too sensitive about this. Humiliation or an infringement upon a person’s integrity and dignity is never acceptable. Not, that I always adhere to that. But I am well aware that in my old world, I would certainly be called a criminal. The problem is that I don’t recognise any laws that might condemn me here as legitimate and there hasn’t been anyone with the power to enforce their supposed authority in my case. That is, they have not succeeded.

Of course, the peace between us cannot last, since it is only the absence of tension.

It is when I spy hammered to the sign of a tobacco shop with ill repute a small lotus tile above the name like an afterthought that she once again finds me unbearable. Well, she doesn’t know the significance of the tile, after all, even though I shared the existence of the White Lotus only a few nights ago. But she has other worries. Has been distracted and agitated all night. Her irritation with me can be forgiven.

“I’m not going in there,” she says as I change directions to move towards the place, “It smells.”

I shrug as her hand comes loose from the crook of my arm. “I won’t be long. Look threatening or something.”

She snorts, but leans against the wood of the doorframe, twirling one of her stilettos. She looks dangerous and willing to inflict as much pain as it takes the next dog to understand that no approach is welcome. Attempts at humping will be met with severe violence.

The door opens with a creak, loud enough to be heard above the bustle of the city. Inside, it is murky, heady with smoke. Only one dim lamp guides my steps to the low table where two elderly men with long beards and too many gold accessories are sitting over a game of Pai Sho, pipes alit as they concentrate.

At my entrance the one with the long beard looks up. “Got lost, boy?”

“Not sure,” I reply, “Didn’t seem like the kind of place I was looking for.”

“So what are you doing inside?”

I am silent for a moment as I regard the board. “I was hoping you’d be able to help a lost boy out to find the place he needs to go.”

“And where does the boy need to go?”

“I can’t quite remember. But the place has a room for playing games, and a few ponds.”

“Any particular kind of pond? There aren’t many of those around here,” sarcastic overtones colour the man’s tone.

“You know, the kind with those pretty flowers in them.”

At this both heads swerve my way again. Both sets of eyes narrow.

“Can’t help you tonight, boy. We’re busy. Come back tomorrow, midday.”

Alright. “Sure thing.”

Mai is eyeing the people milling about distrustfully when I return. With good reason.

I count, quickly. Ten burly, scarred men with too many metal rings in their faces are loitering, while the locals who don’t own any of the buildings are making themselves scarce. This is obviously some sort of attack. The question is why and do they want us alive?

The fact that it’s ten people tells me that either they have no idea that I’m a bender and depending on their fighting capabilities, they are not underestimating us – that is, to their knowledge. Carefully, I avoid thinking of the possibility that Gorou knows of my intentions not to reveal myself as a bender so close to Ba Sing Se. He hasn’t done anything but make his intentions known to travel with me and make life difficult for the Dai Li. I’ve judged him to be genuine.

It won’t do to doubt myself here, before everything has even properly been set in motion.

It won’t do to get killed or captured by people whose motivations I neither know nor care about. But just in case they can make our plans halt, I will have to investigate this.

Either they are friends of one of the people Mai maimed earlier, but the lack of familiar or hateful faces makes me discard that possibility. Or they know we mean trouble for some important people, and they are working for these important people.

I do hope the Dai Li frowns upon piercings. That would mean that these men aren’t the best earthbenders the country has to offer.

Probably.

I hate not knowing who I’m facing. Especially when I’m purposefully handicapping myself, and I didn’t even used to play golf.

Well. Time to put those rusty fighting skills to use that Hahn forced me to develop.

Maybe this will even be fun. I doubt they’re as skilful as him.

Once they have us circled, nice and proper, Mai and I stand back to back. Better safe than sorry, even if we’re not used to fighting like this. Or I’m not. She might be, with Circus Girl.

Before we get to Ba Sing Se, we should practise this sort of thing.

And here I’d hoped to get all of this done relatively peacefully. Or as peaceful as cutting off the first bones of pinkies can be.

“So…” I say, when all the men do is surround us and glower, “What’s up?”

One of them stifles a snort, but keeps the threatening expression. This is shaping up to be a bit awkward. They’re not jeering or looking particularly undisciplined.

“We have your comrades,” one of them rumbles out. His piercings are exclusively on his eyebrows. “Come with us quietly.”

Oh. That means Gorou… was he captured? Is he a hostage? Somehow, I can’t imagine him being tied to a chair… Even though I’ve put him in shackles myself.

There is no room for doubt.

I hum. “What’d he do?”

There is no answer. Ah. I don’t like this at all.

“Will you come quietly?” the eyebrow-piercing-man asks, losing a bit of his calm patience.

“Hmm,” I say, turning my head slightly to ask Mai, “What do you think?”

“No,” she says. Well. That’s that. Not, that I’d have chosen any differently.

The men attack simultaneously. They’ve trained in the way we should’ve. Mai manages to keep her lot at a distance, but I don’t have the luxury of too many weapons. So, the dagger I take from my tunic will have to do.

Been a while, I think as I slip beneath one short sword, kick away another forearm and twist away from the strike aimed at my throat. So they aren’t too concerned with keeping me alive.

Mai takes out two of her attackers. Seriously impressive aim.

I sweep another’s legs out from under him, roll beneath the retaliating strike of his comrade and push myself up with my fists, to catapult my feet into another’s sternum, making him wheeze and stumble backwards, as I land on the balls of my feet, dagger coming up to draw blood from the startled fifth man attacking me.

There is no pause.

I barely avoid the thrust of a short sword that would have skewered me from behind, twist into that man’s space and land an elbow with enough force to crush his windpipe. Two down.

Mai kills another.

Eyebrows comes at me this time, with more tenacity than the others, with more skill. I hate sword fighters with skill.

I might be in a bit of trouble.

Dodging his attacks and the ones his comrades weave in between his pauses is all I can do. I feel sweat begin to break out. I might actually have to cheat a bit.

Well. I never did say I couldn’t… and this isn’t some kind of duel. Not, that I’d ever participate in that sort of thing.

Bending comes easily to me, after all, and so it is simple to take advantage of some of the blood spilled on the ground that Eyebrows is standing on to pierce his heel. His cry of pain tells me it worked, his falter does, too and I take advantage. His forearm breaks with a loud snap, the sword falls to the ground. He doesn’t scream.

He retreats, hobbling.

I won’t count him out yet, but for now, there is only two left for me to deal with and Mai seems to be occupying her last two attackers well.

It’s luck and a twirl that saves me from the dart that would’ve caught me in the arm.

Not ten, then. And they came prepared with drugs, I suppose. Why not begin with this? Are they testing us?

The dart caught one of my opponents instead, but Mai’s shout warns me that she was hit.

Shit.

No time for no more bending. I use the same trick I did on eyebrows on all of the fighters standing on blood, which is two of them. That leaves one.

Our eyes meet. I make quick work of the ones I crippled, throats slit. More blood is good for me in this case, since it splatters on the last two in my vicinity. I see another dart coming, and shove one of them in its path.

I kick the last one away from Mai’s downed form, yank out the dart, dodge another and take stock of the situation.

Eyebrows is over there, by the one with the blast pipe who is loading it up with two darts. Then there is the last fighter, with blood all over his clothes and arms getting up from where he landed in between some crates.

I cast out my senses. No others.

If I bend now, and kill them, no one alive will tell the tale.

But then there might not be anyone to bring me to where Gorou is.

I decide on Eyebrows for the job, if I can make it so. Spokespersons are often the more knowledgeable ones. Besides, he was the most protected in that formation earlier. Not, that it did much.

I want the one with the blast pipe gone first. I will use the fighter to hide behind as I get closer.

It works, but with the cost of a long line of blood seeping from a wound on my arm. Not poisoned, I note, and he catches all the darts with his back for me admirably. Rather stupid of them, to sacrifice a capable man for a clear shot at me.

“Now,” I say once the blast piper is unconscious at my feet with his own dart in his neck, perhaps a bit too deeply inside his flesh for him to recover nicely. “Where were we?”

Eyebrows does not resist as I tie his arms behind his back. I’m breathing a bit more quickly than I’d like, and make a conscious effort to even out my breathing. I’ll have to bring Mai back to the ship. Then I’ll have Eyebrows bring me back to where he came from, where I hope to find Gorou, in whatever state he’s in and clear things up.

Good plan. Simple.

“Stay there,” I tell Eyebrows once I’ve tied him to my satisfaction. He won’t hobble far, if he does try to escape.

Then I go about collecting Mai’s knives from the bodies. There is only one left alive. “Hello there,” I say pleasantly as I yank the stiletto from his chest. Probably won’t survive. “If someone comes to collect you and you can speak, please tell them that I’ll be making a house call soon and to please have tea ready and my friend in pleasant conditions.”

He makes to spit in my face. I tut, and make the spit land on his own face instead with the motion. I take care not to let Eyebrows out of my sight as I gather Mai onto my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She won’t like it, but I need at least one hand free.

“Come on,” I tell Eyebrows, “We’re off to the docks.”

.

Haruto greets us with concern as we arrive.

“Tie him to the mast for now,” I tell the boy and he does as told, with the knots we taught him. Fon watches with interested eyes.

I bring Mai to the first mate’s cabin where Circus Girl seems to be napping with Peter. She wakes with a start, and suspicion in her eyes. It’s the child in her arms that stops her from causing me bodily harm, I suspect.

“She’s just drugged,” I tell her and lay Mai down where Circus Girl was moments ago.

I wash my hands in the basin, before extracting the now no longer dry blood and flicking it out the small porthole. Then I wet the cloth next to it and hand it to Circus Girl to clean her friend with while I gather some water around my palms to do some healing. Perhaps I can extract some of the drug, or filter it through her system in a less damaging manner.

I take a look at the entry wound in her arm.

There’s not much residue for me to extract, but I do what I can.

“She’ll sleep through the night,” I tell Circus Girl and a silent Peter. “We were attacked. Is suspect Gorou’s diplomatic efforts didn’t go well.”

Now, that her friend is no longer in danger, she snorts. Well. She’s right. Gorou isn’t a likable fellow.

“I’ll go see what’s going on.”

“I am coming with you,” Circus Girl rasps.

Ah. A night of surprises.

I nod in acquiescence.

.

No amount of wheedling will help. Someone needs to watch the ship with Peter and Fon.

Ebisu was needed to find the right dealer for our purposes with Gorou.

Circus Girl’s motivations are still unclear. She at least, seems to want something within Ba Sing Se. I’ll be surprised if it’s justice for anyone but herself, though. Which leads me to the question of what it is that she wants with the Dai Li. The Dai Li holds the key to Ba Sing Se.

Which is why she too needs watching even if she can be trusted with Peter. Haruto stays on board because I don’t think Peter can fend off Fon if he tries something. He is still a child, after all.

“Haruto,” I say quietly, intently to the boy, “This won’t be some heroic effort to rescue our crew. I’ll probably have to kill a few people and we won’t come out of there unscathed. Depending on how this goes, we might have to abandon our plans altogether and enter the city as refugees. I know that you know all of this. Point is, no matter what we do, we still need the ship. And you’re the only one I can trust to keep it safe from whatever machinations Ebisu and Fon are setting into motion. Because they are. This might be the revelation of that, or it might not, but you’re not coming with us tonight.”

I sigh at his pout. “I realise that you want in on the action, I do. But I’m not going to lie to you, you’re not skilled enough to survive this fight, and I can’t look out for you. I’ll teach you some after tonight, if you do as I ask.”

Reluctant, he nods, but that’s all I need.

“Then good luck. Tell Mai what’s going on when she wakes up,” I ruffle his hair and get going, Circus Girl and Eyebrows in tow.

I know roughly to where Gorou went. I also know that that’s gang territory. Because he was meant to come to an agreement with them, since they have certain contacts within Ba Sing Se that don’t involve the Dai Li. Or if they do, they’re tolerated in order to keep others out. Better to have one criminal organisation functioning, but in view, rather than having to deal with others coming in all the time to replace one another and fight for territory which would disturb the peace.

Because there is no war in Ba Sing Se. Of course not.

It’s all just a neighbourly dispute, really.

I suspect that it was the panic when the city was breached from the outside the last time by the Dragon of the West that allowed for the Dai Li’s policies to be set in place. This was when the Earthking was still the actual ruler. That is, until he was presumably assassinated by the very peacekeeping force he employed.

He wasn’t the only one to suffer from that monumental point in the war’s history. The price the Dragon of the West paid proved too steep for him, too. His son’s life.

It is understandable that he should be shattered by the trauma of losing his child in a war of which he’d been the general and driving force. But then again, he was killing thousands of other people’s sons with his conquest. So… it seems to have been a necessary event for Iroh, the Crown Prince then, to see what it was that he was devastating with his advance. The conditioning his father used on him and his brother must have left its mark. But there also must have been some capacity for empathy within Iroh from the beginning, or he would not have changed so dramatically in the wake of his son’s death.

Iroh was not the only one to change after Ba Sing Se had been breached. I strongly suspect that it was then that the brainwashing truly began. That is, the protecting of the tradition within the city by and for the Dai Li. That’s conservatism driven to the point of insanity. The Earthking is young. Perhaps it was the perfect opportunity to take power beneath the notice of a young, grief-stricken man who hadn’t learnt sufficient distrust of people in and with power then.

In any case, we’re about to deal with the most powerful organised crime organisation I know of within the Earthkingdom. And they’ve captured Gorou.

I’m hoping that this is only a test to see how well we do. Otherwise we might be getting out of this only by slaughtering our way out. Which would not fit into our clever, quiet plans to get into the city.

It is immediately apparent that we have arrived when five men in dark clothing, wearing demon masks, circle our small party, remaining at a distance of ten paces from my position only because I have Eyebrows at still-bloody knifepoint. Circus Girl has tensed and seems ready for a fight.

So, Gorou’s meeting with his old employers didn’t turn out that well. I suppose that all we can hope for now is a slightly more peaceful resolution than beating everyone up, or dying here.

People wearing masks that cover their entire face have always made me uneasy. It is why I wear one that covers only half of my face, for anonymity and the benefit of still being able to express what I leave unsaid. I am not a master of body language, after all, and I cannot expect everyone I meet to be able to read it accurately. I pause in continuing towards the large red gate that is the entrance to the organisation’s headquarters.

“You know what the masks signify?” I ask Circus Girl once I have enough of her attention.

Her scowl is a negative one. Perhaps it should concern me that her expressions are easy enough to decipher for me, even with the limited amount of time we’ve spent in one another’s company these past months.

“They represent the most malignant spirits we know of. It means that while wearing these masks, the people behind them cease to exist. There is nothing that they are unwilling to do to serve their master.”

She frowns, but eyes the guards more cautiously. Good. We can’t afford to underestimate their skill.

The masks are a warning. As we continue on, the red gates opening silently at our approach, I appreciate their explicit nature. There is no need for censure or subtlety here in Tananga, the city of gangs, thieves, pirates and what amounts to Mafiosi. There are no peacekeeping officials because any who attempt to enforce the King’s law here die soon enough at the hands of someone they pissed off. No one is safe, just like anywhere else. It just makes even more of a difference here who your friends are.

We’re strangers in this place. I can only hope they’re willing to make new acquaintances tonight.

The compound behind the thick walls is impressive, to say the least. It’s closer to a fortress than anything else, really. A heavily defensible fortress with enough shadows between torches for the masked guards to melt into. This is a place where intruders won’t easily harness the darkness to their advantage. It is far more likely to be their demise.

It seems more and more unlikely that we’ll escape here alive, should it come to a fight.

.

How very unfortunate. The inside of the fortress is cool and equally sparsely lit as the courtyard. We’re silently led straight ahead through a set of black metal doors with spikes on them pointing t the outside, glinting dangerously. It seems that they’re well-prepared for attacks. There is no such thing as overkill for an organisation like this, I suppose.

The inside of the large room reminds me of one of those old, Roman estates with the water in the inner yard, only it’s closed to the roof. And the shallow pool’s been filled with sand. Behind us, the doors are shut.

_They release Gorou for ‘bringing them here’ and Kaito will have to analyse the situation. The gang want something from Gorou, and they think making Kaito suspicious of him will get them it._

Beyond the thirteen masked guards that I detect, of which I only see five, there are two others in the room. They aren’t easily made out as more than vaguely person-shaped figures in the odd lighting of the room. One spotlight into the sandpit that makes the places where blood splattered twinkle like bronze gemstones and the surroundings even darker in contrast.

Once my eyes adjust a bit to the strange light, I meet dark, intent eyes across the room. Across the drawn blades of the men who are meant to subdue Mai and me. I have made my decision to support Gorou in this. I will give these people a reason not to speak of any of this. If relations have already deteriorated this far, then fine. We’ll force them to be our trading partners by making ourselves into what they need, but making it so that we will have to remain independent to move as we must in order to fulfil our purpose as whatever it is that they need.

But first I need to know what’s transpired here. What has Gorou told them?

The fact is that I need Gorou. I need him, his cunning, his expertise, his ruthlessness. Gorou knows this. If this is all a way to determine how far I am is willing to go to keep him, then I will perform well, I suppose. If it isn’t, then Gorou seems genuinely not to want to give these people what they want from him.

One of the two person-shadow-figures moves into the light.

It is an odd trait that beauty possesses in that it invites both nectar and poison. When it is worn vainly, arrogantly, manipulatively, it becomes a cruel weapon to utilise against unsuspecting victims. It is fortunate, then, that I live ever suspiciously. That, and I’m quite aware that this is a woman who would eat me alive and leave me happy doing it.

I’d tell myself that I’m not that pathetic, but I’ve made it a habit to only lie to myself unintentionally. There isn’t much to construct something believable from here anyway.

“Release him,” she commands. Her fellow shady-figure moves to stand beside her.

Eyebrows is apparently higher up in the organisation than I first assumed. This could be a problem, if he’s the type to hold grudges. Most violent men are.

Well, it’s too late now, if he is. All I can do is treat him well from now on and hope that that’s all he’s found inadequate about our time together.

The desire to dominate over others most often stems from a lack, after all.

Lack of affection or love or true companionship. I should know. I’m as lonely as can be, although I hope that I’ve got a handle on my violent tendencies.

Though I take care not to let these thoughts show as I meet Gorou’s eyes across the room. Ebisu is holding a knife to his throat. So that’s what happened. How lovely.

“Ara,” I murmur, seeking out the leader of the organisation with my eyes, following the way Gorou’s gaze shifts between the two shades, man and woman with such dark eyes they seem as black as their hair. Eyebrows shares the man’s nose and mouth. A cousin? Nephew? Too old. But they are related, I’m sure.

“How about we swap, eh?” I suggest, tone light and clearly at odds with the tension in the room.

The woman gives a barely perceptible wave with her bejewelled hand.

Promptly, Ebisu shoves Gorou away from himself, to the middle of the room where the light is brightest. That’s a fighting pit. Gorou looks like he already went a few rounds with someone meaner than him. I do hope this doesn’t mean he’s meant to fight a bit more.

I release Eyebrows who promptly hobbles to a chair where a masked guard begins to check and dress his wounds. It’s the first sign of humanity I’ve detected from any of them.

“I take it that this wasn’t the kind of reunion you’d hoped for,” I tell Gorou once he’s stumbled his way to my side. Circus Girl remains impassive.

“Expected worse,” he admits, strangely enough. I look at Ebisu, whose eyes are clear of remorse. Indeed. Well, he’s not setting foot on my ship ever again.

“So what’s come of it?”

“We get to see the man responsible for defeating the Fire Nation’s Navy,” the woman speaks, voice smooth and inviting.

I don’t react beyond a raise of my eyebrows.

“Gorou tells us you were the one,” the man at her side – brother? – adds, tone far less friendly. Good cop, bad cop, then? Only, they’re both bad, as far as I can tell.

I look at Gorou for confirmation, who shrugs. “They don’t make agreements with just anyone.”

I sigh. “So that makes me special.”

“An exception,” the woman agrees. Her tone is that of seductive flattery and I would like to say that it leaves me cold, but even though I know how she employs her voice to her full advantage, she holds allure. Quite impressive, while she’s dressed in a rather shapeless cape. It takes a special kind of talent to convey intent and possibility with just the inflection and pitch of one’s voice. It surprises me that she doesn’t make use of body language as well.

Circus Girl huffs derisively. It seems she’s unhappy that she didn’t get to beat up anyone. Perhaps she even disapproves of the blatant manipulation. Well, we’re not quite back in safe waters yet, so she might get to employ her violent skillset even while we attempt to resolve things peacefully.

“Exceptional enough to get what we came for?” I ask, and make it sound equally as inviting.

“That remains to be seen,” she states, eyes assessing. It feels as though she were sizing us up, all of us.

Well, great. That’s very helpful. But it’s also not a ‘no’. I can be patient for a ‘maybe.’ I will have to be.

The fact is that this is still capitalism. And crime revolves around money. Therefore, if what I propose is lucrative enough, then we will get out of this alive, and with a ticket into Ba Sing Se. Since I’m also not honourable, depending on the consequences of fulfilling only part of the deal, I can still skip town whenever I like without worrying about assassins following me all my life.

“You can heal, as a waterbender,” the woman remarks, eyes deliberately moving to Eyebrows in suggestion.

Well. If she’ll hand me a bargaining chip so easily, I won’t refuse it. But I will make sure she knows that I won’t leave here as a member of her organisation, or even a pawn to be directed. I don’t even intend to become any sort of player within the Earthkingdom, but I’ll be damned if I allow this woman to tie me to her criminal empire. Perhaps even quite literally. There are rather concerning rumours about the tattoos these people can put on benders. Come to think of it, Gorou has one doesn’t he?

It’s said that dangerous rituals are involved in the tattooing process. Rituals that involve spirits of the malevolent kind. Not only are those rituals extremely rare, but also risky to the point that only very few ever attempt them.

And so it becomes a careful skirting of her desires while achieving my own. How tedious.

“Heal him and we’ll discuss your request,” the woman says.

“Guarantee us safe return to our ship and I’ll demonstrate on Gorou,” I tell her flatly, “And once we’ve discussed the request, I’ll do the same for him.”

She scowls, and stares at me, eyes harsh and displeased. Well. These are my conditions. After all, healing exhausts me quite a bit, and I don’t intend on fighting my way out in a state like that. It’s no fun, after all. The last time I felt this way, I was taken prisoner by pirates.

“Agreed,” the man beside her says, voice impatient.


	21. Responsibility

The day is murky, oppressive in a way only clouds that promise nothing but their hovering presence can be. I have long learned not to care for it, but the quality of sunlight is a well-appreciated one for me. I’ve been spoilt with good weather since the storm, working in the sun, and its lack is apparent.

Not, that it will matter much once I re-enter that tobacco shop.

I think of the agreement Gorou and I reached with Marija and her brother last night. Access to trading rings within Ba Sing Se for the sake of gathering our information on the Dai Li that we will share with Marija through her nephew, Eyebrows. His name is Dionu, and it sounds enough like ‘dino’ to amuse me because sometimes he seems like a T-Rex, incredibly dangerous, but not very dexterous.

Further, while we will be provided with accommodations within the city, he’s going to live with us. Something that I can tolerate, but I don’t like it all that much. Already, I’m far too vulnerable through Peter and Haruto, who both depend on me to an extent. I’ll do my best to make Haruto into someone independent, and give Peter the room to decide things for himself that he needs. He’s a grown man inside a child’s body, after all, and I know all too well what that’s like.

From my own time in that state most likely stems my obsessive need to insure my independence. To assert my own power and influence over the world, as stupid as it seems.

And it is a need, I have noticed. It became especially apparent last night. And cravings for power, I find, always comes from feeling helpless, or the lack of something. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that is especially true for power.

The absence of power over one’s own circumstances, or even the options one has within that situation has created this sensitivity towards all attempts to coerce me into subservience. Because it always goes hand in hand with restrictions of one’s choices. In other words, loss of freedom. If there were an even trade-off for more safety, I suppose the argument could be made that it isn’t all that bad. However, looking at things more closely, that rarely turns out to be true, if at all.

It depends on the viewpoint. As soon as one is no longer solely responsible for oneself, one must be exponentially more careful about the choices one makes.

Safety could be a very good thing for Peter while he still grows.

It could be argued that he’s safest within the Fire Nation, since he’s a noble there.

But I have asked him. He does not desire the life there. To him, an adventure to take part in, to have a voice and stake in, if little else, is preferable to that relative safety.

And, to be clear, it is relative. One never knows what the future brings. There is no one who is actually capable of foresight. And so, every day remains a mystery. In a country that is at war, even outside of its actual borders, that mystery could turn out to be a deadly one.

With me… it’s similar, if more immediate of a risk.

Then again, what’s life without risk?

What’s life without freedom?

Boring. Beside helplessness the first few months of my conscious existence in this world were remarkably boring. That was when I wasn’t prone to fits of anger, fear or doubt.

Thankfully, my awareness had only crept in in stages. By the time I was capable of understanding who and what I was, years had passed.

Peter is rather young to remember all of himself. But perhaps some of the memories were triggered by coming into contact with me. It would explain some things.

Such are my thoughts as I make my way back to the shop while Gorou and Dionu load up our ship with the goods we also agreed on smuggling inside the city. Dionu’s done it before, so we’ll rely on his expertise for the operation. I imagine the Dai Li knows of their activities, but tolerates it, so long as it benefits them.

It’s always good to have some drug-addicts for the ‘clean’ people to blame or bully. Their misfortune is their own fault, after all, and one’s own life is still better than that.

.

“The boy has returned,” one of the old men from last evening croaks. His face is the kind of old you rarely get to see, with wrinkles so fine and numerous that his entire face seems like the rockface of a particularly splintered boulder.

I shrug at him. “I said I would.”

“The boy will follow,” he says and laboriously rises from his seat. He leans on a gnarled cane with an equally gnarled hand that has become a permanent claw with age and shuffles slowly towards the back of the shop that lies in complete darkness.

The other man, still in his seat, watches with sharp, mistrustful eyes.

I follow the first one to a door that he taps in an odd pattern. It slides open to reveal a beautiful garden, and my nose, used to the heavy waft of tobacco smoke, livens under the flowery scents. It is a small gravel path that the old man takes, ignoring the woman who’d opened the door. She, too, is old, but her eyes are keen as she meets my gaze.

A twist around a large bush, heavy with flowers that I can’t name reveals a pond in which white lotus flowers float peacefully in the lacklustre light the day gifts us with. He shuffles past it to a stone table whose surface was carved with a Pai Sho grid.

It seems that we’ll be playing before we hold a proper conversation about what I want and what I have to do to get it, if I can. We sit across from one another in silence.

The woman who opened the door sets tea down beside our hands.

“What does the boy seek from old men?” croaks my opponent.

That one is easy. “The means to securing freedom for those who seek it.”

“What does the boy think the will to freedom is?” Here we have a bit of philosophy. It’s tricky because freedom can be defined in many ways, but if I actually had to pick one definition, I don’t think I could, because the nature of freedom is that it is, well, free. If it were definite, it would no longer be freedom. Then again, the word is not necessarily identical with what it describes. So, the will to freedom…

“The desire to self-governance in action and thought,” that’s not all of it by far, but this is a quick and dirty fix.

“What does the boy believe these old men should do to aid his cause?”

“I should think that the means of contacting certain people in hard-to-reach places would be a wonderful start,” after all, I need help if we are to stop the war and build a community for people to exist freely in. That is, so long as their way of living does not restrict others in ways they object to.

“The boy intends much beyond what he reveals.”

“Yes.” That much is obvious. I mirror his action of sipping from his tea. It’s a light flavour. White tea and a hint of something sweet.

The man scrutinises me carefully.

“The boy will play a game and he will play it honestly.”

“Alright.” I’m not master enough at Pai Sho to fool a master into thinking I’m playing as I would honestly when I’m not.

And so, we play.

The atmosphere is almost tranquil. The rustle of the wind as it brushes through the leaves. The gentle clicking of the stones on the board. A calmness so unlike anything I expected to feel today, especially after the high tension of last night.

“You were taught well,” he observes quietly, surveying the board. He has, of course built a solid foundation into defeating me. “Who was the best teacher in your life?”

“The best teacher?” I think on it for a short moment, “Well, they’ve visited all of us at least once. For most, they’re a permanent resident.”

“Pain,” the old man says wisely.

“Hurt,” I correct, and once more I feel his eyes keenly. Hurt is damage to the hearth, while pain is a threat. Something to be soothed. Hurt… is pain to the soul, and there are very few things that have proven to be adequate comforts for that. All that I do in the end is to distract from it. And yet, I can never escape it. It is a constant companion, and since you can learn from all things, if you look at them right, hurt is the most constant, the most present teacher. It is the best because consistency and presence are what matter most to me in an unstable world such as this, in an existence as inexplicable as any other, but so much more because…

I open my eyes. The lids are heavy.

I should not be nearly as tired. Or calm…

There is little worse than feeling helpless. I slide my gaze to the empty tea cup. “Ah.”

.

SOKKA POV

Sokka is, has and always will be someone practically inclined. This doesn’t stop him from being introspective, when the situation calls for it. With Kaito, he’s practically forced into it.

He isn’t a man of many unnecessary words, Kaito. But what he does say when he opens his mouth is relevant and sobering. He’s fun, too, which seems like a contradiction, but Kaito, Sokka has learned, is never entirely consistent, or conforms to expectations. He seems aloof, but carries out gestures of care naturally, without expecting gratitude.

He seems not to know what to do with Katara’s jealousy, except for allowing her to realise that there isn’t any need for comparison between them without ever actually saying it. There never could be an accurate comparison between them without ever actually saying it. There never could be an accurate comparison of their skill, in any case. He grew up in the North, with Pakku as his teacher from the time he was two years old. He was part of a large community of benders, with duties to his people that demanded a certain amount of maturity.

Sokka recognises that Kaito, although only a year his elder, commands a vast amount of experience in matters of fighting and observation of people, as well as a sharp intellect that he only reveals when it comes to the defence that none of the others, including Sokka can muster.

He understands that his sister is intimidated, wants to be able to stand up to a comparison with Kaito. But, as Sokka keeps reminding himself, there can be no comparison.

He isn’t usually so introspective, but something about Kaito and his words, the way he argues, well-informed, well thought-out and so convincing that Sokka takes it at face value. He’s never had to work at understanding someone else in a conversation while they’re speaking the same language. He feels slow when he asks for clarification, but the way Kaito then elaborates and takes the slight difficulty in understanding into account the next time they discuss is nothing short of impressive. Sokka feels his brain stretch in those moments, horizon expanding, shifting to a new, before unseen level.

Really, he thinks privately that, were Kaito not as tricky to handle as he is, and a few years older, Sokka would be nursing a bad case of hero-worship by now. As it is, they’re working on a great, easy friendship that could, if Sokka’s optimistic, change the world.

With his own cleverness and Kaito’s realism and capability of understanding and going along with Sokka’s trains of thought, they could – with sufficient resources – defeat the Fire Nation. Not bad, for the two of them, and with Aang by their side, if they play it right, the Fire Nation would go down. Will go down. Perhaps even in Flames.

So when Kaito makes the decision to stay behind in Omashu, an active warzone, it feels a bit like they’re being protected. Which, while rubbing Sokka the wrong way in a lot of places, also feels nice. Ever since his father went to war, Sokka had to look after both Katara and himself.

So Kaito caring about their well-being… it’s nice.

And also, kind of patronising? But, Aang is their priority and Sokka agrees that for his sake, they definitely had to leave. As their time with Kaito made all-too clear, Aang is eleven.

Sokka isn’t all that much older, but the difference is considerable. They might’ve been fending for themselves for a long time now, but their encounter with General Fong and the subsequent violent mess that ended their stay with the man, made it very apparent that they weren’t ready for a lot of things.

And now that they were alone again, Sokka sort of missed the comforting presence of another person who behaved responsibly at least in the situations that most demanded it. Besides, Kaito laughed at his jokes, no matter how flat they fell with Katara.

Katara was both more and less irritable without Kaito around. She bristled at the most innocuous comments, especially when she felt that she wasn’t being taken seriously – and, honestly, she could stand to be more relaxed about that. But she no longer nagged at them as badly as before Kaito had been with them. He’d managed to give her a new sort of perspective about a lot of things, Sokka thought. At least when it came to accepting that some people were just always going to be of a different mindset and that cooperation was still possible.

Aang… he tried not to show it, but Kaito had been a big comfort for him. Sokka tried to make up for it a bit, but he knew that only Kaito could fill the odd gap he’d left in their interactions. He’d been someone to go to for advice who took even the small insecurities Aang had seriously.

Sokka knew he wasn’t the best about honest, serious conversations, but he made an effort to show Aang that he could still come to him with his problems. Although he drew the line when it came to Aang’s crush on Katara. He just ignored that. Because… ew.

.

Their episode in the swamp had the odd side-effect of forcing them all to confront their feelings. Where Kaito had made them understand the larger workings of this world and the war, he’d never been one for introspection. He’d been a fun, largely quiet companion, and until Sokka met Yue again he hadn’t thought much about Kaito’s loss at all.

_“Kaito fares well, by the way,” Yue had said to him, “He’s pretending to be a pirate now.”_

_Sokka had spluttered: “A pirate!”_

_Yue had laughed. “It suits him. He never really did enjoy being my guard.”_

Sokka hadn’t understood. All he’d wanted to do then was be as close to Yue as he could.

When he thought about it now, about what Kaito had been doing when they met him, he realised that he’d always been talking to people or training with the waterbenders. He’d been social to the point that Sokka wondered when he found the time to sleep. He’d been someone made for action and the position of a guard was one of long periods of doing nothing. He’d had a large circle of acquaintances and Yue had often complained to Sokka about how she thought Kaito was bored too often, which was why he behaved as he did.

In leaving behind the Northern Watertribe, Kaito had left behind a large network of people – many of whom were dead. He’d been Hahn’s best friend, and he’d given Sokka his last memento of him. Kaito had acknowledged Sokka’s loss. But Sokka had never done the same.

Kaito was, by and large, the picture of strength and a mess at once. A strong mess.

.

When they finally caught the whiff of a bending teacher for Aang, they’d been so excited that Sokka only realised the implications of what it meant that all Earthbending schools were shit when he took a step back from his emotions.

It meant that there was hardly any competent opposition to the Fire Nation, and the best fighters were criminals. And Sokka felt a cold shiver run down his spine. It was no wonder the Fire Nation was advancing as well as it was. It meant that… the Earthkingdom had no real defence to muster up outside of large fortifications.

He held his hears out for news from Omashu, even if he knew that Kaito had left the city behind as well. It never hurt to know where things stood, and which places were still untouched by war.

Most of the news was that of thousands of refugees pouring into Ba Sing Se, and that Omashu had turned into a battered city of war, the bastion that held strong against the Fire Nation’s continued advances. It was the opposite of what King Bumi had wanted, he supposed, but Sokka didn’t know if life as a slave to the Fire Nation was better than fighting for one’s freedom and perhaps dying.

He knew he would fight. He had been for so long that he thought he probably didn’t know how not to.

He’d seen what a well-planned defence against the might of all the Fire Nation’s Navy could do. He knew what it had cost, and he was aware that it had been an all-or-nothing war. Or, more precisely, a battle that could turn the tides on the Fire Nation, at least for a time. It had been very straight-forward, he thought. Far less convoluted that the strategies they employed in Omashu. The battle grounds were simply different.

The Resistance had to take out both the access points of the Fire Nation to the city, as well as make use of their superior knowledge of the terrain to disable all the war machinery the Fire Nation employed.

Thinking about this more made Sokka realise how important it was for them to finally end the war. These people they met would all be slaughtered, or sent to prison, the way Haru’s father had been.

It wasn’t right.

Sokka only hoped that the might of the Avatar could help them sway the war.

But he realised that Aang was eleven, and the thought that he would lead them all to victory was… well, he had faith in his friend. But he knew that it was the symbol of the Avatar that would encourage many to take up arms once more, not the actual person. He also realised that they would have to organise themselves into efficient battle formations and follow a common strategy. Of course, different angles would come together, but they had to have a common goal that would set the list of objectives for each confrontation.

He had no idea how that could be organised on such a large scale without military hierarchies that could structure all of this efficiently. There had to be stable channels of communication. There had to be a clear line of distribution of supplies, and they had to be transported.

His headache was getting worse.

The ships that the Fire Navy had lost… meant that the Watertribes could bring supplies much faster than the usual slow crawl of carts or caravans. But there were pirates to consider.

Then again, hadn’t Yue said that Kaito fancied himself a pirate now? They could disguise lots of their supply ships as pirate vessels perhaps and cover up their activities for a time. Time that could be vital as they scouted out how quickly the Fire Nation re-built much of their fleet. As it was, Sokka was sure that the only reason that Omashu could truly still resist was because the Fire Navy couldn’t bring over new soldiers fast enough to turn the tides efficiently. The problem was, that as time went on, Omashu’s troops would be worn down.

They really had to get things done.

And then there was that comet…

Sokka wished Kaito had left him one of those skins of wine. He could really use a drink.

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GOROU POV

Gorou thought negotiations had gone rather well. He’d only been roughed up a bit, for failing to report in sooner, but then at his proposition and revelation of who he was travelling with, Marija had thought it better to get to know her options. As she always had.

She was the most calculating person he knew, after all. And his brother was O-Ting, who had infiltrated the Dai Li in order to find their sister’s noble abusers. In Omashu. Which was where he was now part of the Resistance…

Really, he wondered how O-Ting got himself into these situations. But then again, he had little ground to stand on, didn’t he?

As part of the yakuza Gorou’d been in his own tricky situations.

As the first mate of a pirate crew he’d been in a few dangerous scruffs with Fire Nation and other officials alike. And then that disaster with capturing the Fire Nation noble girls and Kaito…

Well, that had been a sound strategic bite in the dust.

Literally for most. Really, as soon as Gorou had understood that Kaito could control some of his bodily fluids, it was over. There were some things you could take on, and then there was monstrosity hidden behind half-lidded eyes and lazy movements that could turn sharp at a moment’s notice.

He’d thought to bide his time with Ebisu and Fon, but once the storm hit, Gorou knew that there was nothing he would do to murder this man in his sleep. If he was blessed by the spirits, Gorou wouldn’t bring down their wroth on himself. For nothing in this world.

And, if he was honest, freedom sounded rather nice.

As it was, he was enjoying the view of Tananga tinged in the rosy hues of sunset. It was the first time the sun showed itself that day.

He only wondered if Kaito would be back soon enough for them to make for Ba Sing Se in the morning. He’d been gone all day. Where to, Gorou didn’t know. The man could look after himself, after all.


	22. White Lotus

White Lotus 2

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Waking up still drugged and unable to bend accurately enough in order to filter the poison out of my system is rather upsetting. So is realising that you’ve been chained to a wall in a cold, wet and mostly dark cell. The only source of light is a flickering wax candle that seems like there might be an hour left to it. Somehow, this seems crueller than leaving me with no light at all from the very beginning.

This is not how I expected an old, ancient order of ancient men with codes of honour longer than their beards would treat someone seeking help, versed in the ways of Pai Sho. I mean…

This might have been a naïve assumption.

After everything went so well with the yakuza, which I now suspect had a lot to do with Gorou and my earlier show of force with Dionu, as well as their knowledge of my role during the invasion, I’d somehow assumed we’d be playing Pai Sho, drinking tea, talking about my plans and either I’d leave with help, or they’d refuse. Should I count this as a refusal?

If I get out of here early enough to not delay our plans for arriving at Ba Sing Se Harbour within the next two days, I resolve to steer clear from all members of the White Lotus until I can speak to Pakku. Perhaps they’re not even members of the order. One small tile nailed to the sign of a shop in Tananga doesn’t actually have to tell me anything.

I should’ve been more paranoid.

All around.

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GOROU

He’s not back yet. Sunrise two hours come and gone, what is he doing?

Gorou looks over the docks, as he’s been doing for the past hours. His intuition tells him that this isn’t normal. Mai and Ty Lee are nervous as well. Haruto would be too, if he weren’t still sleeping. Peter… the less said about the boy the better.

It’s beyond irritating. He scowls.

Fon appears by his side. He’s silent, as he always is because he knows that Gorou knows what he wants before he has to say it.

Gorou nods. He’s going to search for Kaito. This whole Ba Sing Se operation hinges on Kaito and his knowledge of the city, the Fire Nation and the Dai Li. Also, Gorou wouldn’t set foot in that city without someone who could watch his back. So far, the only one he thinks is qualified enough for going up against Dai Li agents and coming out on top is Kaito.

He turns to the stern, where Mai and Ty Lee are holding a hushed conversation. He supposes they’re deciding whether or not to make a break for it, even though they’re not prisoners. Sometimes the young women seem rather… silly. Then again, they’re Fire Nation, and nobles to top it off. Gorou’s never met a noble who wasn’t silly.

They look up at his approach. “I’ll look for him,” Gorou says, speaking mostly to Mai, “I’d like you to come with me, show me where you went the day before yesterday that he might’ve returned to.”

She frowns, but gives him a nod. Then she turns to her scowling companion, “Please look after Tom-Tom for me.”

Ty Lee shrugs. “Fine.”

Mai seems apologetic, but leaves it at that. Gorou, Fon and her leave the ship. The yakuza don’t go back on their deals. Not unless they can be certain of the profit. In this, all profit comes from actually getting into Ba Sing Se, and exploiting the market there – the fear that no one talks about there. There’s no need to guard the ship from those still on it.

“Before Dionu attacked us,” Mai says on the docks, “He went into a tobacco shop. That’s the only place I didn’t enter with him. He seemed preoccupied after that, so I suggest we start our search there.”

They follow. Tananga, by day, is something of a beggar’s den. Only, everyone here is a criminal, so no one has anything to give. Beggars are cutthroats. No one here isn’t dangerous. Gorou remembers thinking that this was the only place he could really be himself. There was no need to hide here, in the dusty streets with knives flashing in every alley. He learned later on that there was no need to ever not be himself. Only the need to sometimes have other people believe him to be something different.

Mai leads them to a tobacco shop, and Gorou is on his guard. This place is one of those that the yakuza have no jurisdiction over.

They’ll have to be careful.

All of them enter. There are two men by a low Pai Sho table, smoking pipes.

Gorou knows better than to tell them what they’re here for directly. But with these types, he knows lies would be out of place.

The decision of what to say is taken from him when one of them speaks.

“The boy has allies,” the statement is cryptic, but it lets them know that Kaito was here. Is he still?

“Where is he?” Mai demands to know.

“Hmm,” the man replies. “You will know in time. Now is the time to wait.”

This is a trial, Gorou realises. Very different from his own, but a trial nonetheless.

.

The time alone in the dark gives me incentive to think. About the near future, should I escape here. Which I will. As soon as I can feel my limbs well enough to try and stand. As soon as I can bend myself lockpicks.

This reminds me of the last time I was chained up. In the bowels of a pirate ship. But I had been thrown straight into action, then , instead of having to keep checking whether I could bend egain or even move smoothly.

Ah… that seems so long ago now. It was only a few weeks ago that the girls and I were captured. That we took over a pirate vessel, lost Azula to her returning memory and basically got rid of lots of people.

And Gorou, the crafty snake went and chose the most direct course of securing his freedom.

Gorou is a terrifying person. He waits. Watches. Assesses. When he makes his move, it is with full awareness of the consequences and contingency plans of his opponents, as well as his own. Even so, he is a pirate. Which means that he does not possess any notion of morality. Not in the way I am currently attempting to exercise it. I wonder if he even perceives people as more than enactors of certain roles. If he does not, he is beyond terrifying. A man of ignorance and immorality.

Seems to be working for him, though.

After all, I know of this. And still I do not kill him. Still I give him the benefit of the doubt for my cause. He seems to like freedom and is far too used to getting beat up for a fighter of his calibre.

My pipe dream of a cause and its pathetic beginnings in the vestiges of a barricade against the Fire Nation are a bit too little for him to be trustworthy, though.

What am I thinking?

What am I doing?

I try bending a bit of the moisture around me. Nope.

Fine. Let’s use the time efficiently. Let’s reflect on my actions… I need a smoke. I’d like very much to pack the pipe that formerly belonged to the late captain. It was in the chest that I hadn’t bothered to unlock before we arrived with the Southern Watertribe. Perhaps not the best way to avoid these thoughts in order to simply move on, but while my body is still young and has yet to finish developing, I have practised abstinence in my formative years whereas recent events lead me to believe that a slight addiction won’t hurt.

Not if I am to come to terms with a semblance of fatherhood, the formation of the beginnings of a kind of rebel alliance against all forms of government that do not rely on the freedom and responsibility of their subjects, and the fact that I keep making matters worse for myself.

Namely. Gorou. I don’t want to be constantly afraid. And yet, I have clasped his hand with mine.

I really want a smoke.

It is far more likely that I will die from exposure to this man, than any lung disease that I could get whilst being stuck in this cell or smoking. After all, I can monitor my health through bending, and take steps to heal any damage. Even without this reassurance, the odds of being the more likely cause of my death are stacked in Gorou’s favour.

I imagine packing and lighting the pipe. Inhale. Slight burn, bitter taste, exhale with the calming sensation.

Life is neither simple, nor easy. Which is why I like knowing how I stand with a person horizontally as well as laterally. It creates less confusion. It simplifies interactions.

I cannot walk through life without taking the time to think other people’s motivations and actions through. If I didn’t, I’d be in the precarious position of having to trust anyone I met… Now I am in the precarious position of having to mistrust everyone I meet. Should’ve done that sooner.

First impressions are usually the most faulty.

And so… when I can be certain of everyone else in my party having another, secret motivation for going along with my proposals, why should I be certain of Peter?

I cannot rely on reasoning that paints him in too similar a light as myself. While I may have jumped at the chance to meet someone like myself, someone who is just as dislocated, he may not.

Even as I offer ultimate distractions and indulgences in a life with purpose, I cannot be certain that that is what he desires. He might find it funny to betray me at some point. That is, if he doesn’t take his life as seriously as I do… most of the time.

So.

Still I have no one to trust.

Well, no one within a day’s journey. I do trust Pakku. Arnook.

To an extent, Aang, Sokka and Katara. Hakoda, to a lesser extent. He can be trusted to secure his children and their freedom.

But I am aware, acutely aware, of their priorities. All of them seem to be better at following their conscience than I. Mine seems to be on standby often enough. Rebirth takes its toll and the most heavily impacting is that you don’t know why you should care about a lot of things anymore. A lot of it is about asking yourself why you did in the first place and if you want to continue.

Mess up once, your friends die. Get cocky twice and they suffer. Overestimate your sway and perish.

So, I once more test my ability to bend. Nada. I am beginning to get the feeling they did something like a chi block. Because I can move my extremities just fine, and I no longer feel like I’ve been hit over the head.

I’m also thirsty. Drugs. I’ll be getting the mother of all headaches soon.

Time to figure out a way to gather the moisture into some kind of drinkable form, I think, while I also figure out how to regain my bending ability, or pick the locks with what I have on me.

Ah. I’m fucked.

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TOM-TOM BLUES

_To me, freedom is realising that nothing matters and nobody cares. – an idiot_

Positive Nihilism never was my cup of tea.

Meaning behind our actions, and a purpose of each individual on this earth were what I believed in. I searched for mine for a long time. I went places you don’t want your daughter visiting. I did drugs you had better keep your sticky fingers off of. I had my heart shattered more often than I care to admit.

But the one thing that exhilaration or pure emotion could never hope to match is devotion.

I’ve experienced it before. My beautiful darling daughter was the centre of my universe. There was nothing I would not do for her. She knew it. She used it shamelessly, and I did not mind it. No, never.

That was, until she was taken from me. Her death was a sudden affair. Painless, I’d been told by the policeman knocking on my door. He’d been regretful, distant and kind to the point that he disgusted me. There is no such thing as a painless death. The hurt of those left behind, those who clean up the mess is potent.

I showed him the door after receiving the details of who to contact about the remains.

Not body, _remains_.

My family closed ranks about me like they never had before. Losing the reason breath flooded my lungs must have made them fear I would follow her. I hadn’t thought it’d matter much to them. I was the embarrassment, after all. The only one who didn’t manage to escape the rough neighbourhood’s odour. I’d only barely avoided prison. It had been more dumb luck and skin colour than any action taken on my part.

Suicide was, naturally, my intention. However, not here, in this place. Not where any of them would have to clear up my remains. They’d been good to Susie.

I decided to travel to the end of the world, and inconvenience strangers with my dead body.

I daresay, I went above and beyond.

Becoming aware isn’t something you do on purpose. You have no control over the brief periods of lucidity and sleep and _hunger_. The hunger of an infant is that of starvation, of sheer need. There is nothing, nothing at all but the desire to live and therefore eat.

I blame the lack of my ability to grasp my entire being, and that I hadn’t wanted to live any longer, on my developing brain. I have no other rational explanation, and it’s a scrap I cling to in this maelstrom of near insanity.

Often, I feel that it’s not about what I class as sanity and its absence, but what I can’t comprehend. It took me a while to understand where exactly I was. I knew I was born into a wealthy family, but it was the words I’d heard spoken while in the grasp of the… enemy… that made me aware. I didn’t protest my removal from the family I had previously known. There was little excitement to go around in my life, which was why I’d grabbed the lemur’s tail in the first place.

Susie’d been a fan of the cartoon. What could I do but watch it with her?

This Kaito fellow had seemed interesting from the beginning. And when he spoke in a language that I knew… one I hadn’t heard in far too long… I wasn’t about to let that go easily or without a fuss.

He understood what it meant to be a baby with the knowledge of being an adult. He made things bearable. He always made certain that I could decide what to do. He took my opinion into account, and created an environment where I could speak as part of the group, as an adult, even if my body wasn’t.

So, with events taking this strange turn into the clearly dangerous, I worried about him.

We might not have known each other for long, or even at all, but I knew that without him, I was back to being a child. And only that. It had been so good to be able to behave as I would naturally, rather than act the childish countenance my body portrayed.

“Stop staring,” I told the newcomer of our group, the one with the metal in his eyebrows, “It’s like you’ve never seen a toddler before.”

He did.

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Dionu POV

He was well aware that he didn’t really have a leg to stand on, but Dionu thought these people were _weird._ Beyond that, actually, including the baby. Especially the baby. Creepy little bugger.

Also, they were terrifying.

Gorou… spoke for himself. That Mai woman had some serious skill with her knives and a look about her that told Dionu she wasn’t too different from his aunt. Which. Eep.

The other woman was intimidating for the sheer discrepancy between voice and face. No one survived the kind of damage she must have taken without some insane pain tolerance. And a miracle healer. He was willing to bet this Kaito fellow had done her a favour.

Kaito. Well, there was a man of mystery. Skilled bender, shrewdly intelligent and with enough balls to heckle with Marija.

Fon and Ebisu were the kinds of men Dionu liked to keep well awake around and aware of at all times.

The kid, Haruto. He was manic in a way that told Dionu he’d be very dangerous in a few years once he learned how to fight properly. He’d not hesitate, either.

So. They were all weird and terrifying, and they were looking for their leader because he’d gone missing and he was the one this whole thing centred around. Gorou was unwilling to move forward with the plan without him because reasons.

Dionu suspected they had a lot to with Gorou’s superstitions. He’d muttered something about “Spirits watching” which… to be fair, Marija had given him two of the guard to go along with them. But he got the feeling they weren’t the spirits Gorou’d meant.

So, now he was waiting.

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Mai

This geezer! Now isn’t the time for waiting! They have no idea where Kaito is, and while Mai doesn’t really care about the bastard, Tom-Tom does. She doesn’t think she can completely believe their story of having already lived lives before these, but how else can Tom-Tom – Peter, he’d asked to be called Peter – and his advanced speech, reasoning, cognitive ability and that language be explained?

So. Kaito is vital for Peter. And so, he is marginally important for Mai. Namely, she needs him alive. She also wants him alive, because she has no idea what they will do if he isn’t. She can’t return to the Fire Nation. She knows it’s too dangerous for her and Peter. She can’t be loyal any longer. Not like Ty Lee.

She hates it. Of course she does, and for a moment, when she saw her uncle, she hoped. But Azula is the Princess of the Fire Nation. There’s no way that Mai would get to live as she did before. And to think she’d been bored to tears! She hadn’t even wanted it then.

“Look,” she says to the old man, “We’re sort of in a hurry here. We need him with us. Now.”

“It is not the time,” he replies, puffing more smoke. She hates him.

She makes to speak again, but Gorou catches her eyes. His face is unreadable, but she takes it that he thinks she should let him negotiate. Well. Fine. If he doesn’t get results, they can always get violent.

Gorou’s voice is deceptively soft as he asks: “When _is_ the time? There shouldn’t be any trials going on now. We have need of him at present.”

“The time,” the old man answers, “Will come when it does. He will be ready when he is ready.”

That doesn’t make any sense. Trials? Kaito being ready?

Even when caught off guard, Kaito is ready for action.

But… maybe that’s not the kind of ready he needs to be? For what, though?

Gorou turns to her and Fon. He shakes his head softly. “We’ll have to do as he says. We don’t know what kind of trial this is. Interrupting could mean great damage to Kaito, if it’s of spiritual nature.”

Spirits again. What was it with Kaito and those?

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DIONU

He hasn’t got anything to do but wait.

So he thinks about his new companions for far longer than he’d like. He can’t make sense of them. They’re haphazard, concerned one moment, derisive the next, perpetually irritated with one another, but when it comes to what they want, they follow their agreed-upon plan almost fanatically. He remembers one of those rare investments the organisation liked to make from time to time, to get in fresh blood. Sometimes, quite literally.

He’s always watched because he’s not fresh. He’s old blood in a way that sometimes feels like it’s already rotting, even while it still flows in his veins. He’d watched Gorou grow and learn, almost in time with his own growth, but Gorou managed to do it in spite of the obstacles in his way. He wasn’t offered the best tutors or given special attention. Dionu is very aware that Gorou owes the organisation nothing. And Ebisu… he’s always been a turncoat. Fon does whatever Fon does.

Gorou is blunt and harsh.

It seems then explicitly odd, his choice of compatriots. The knife-girl was certainly interesting, as was the silent one. Fon was as hard to read as ever and hadn’t given him any indication as to whose plans he followed – Ebisu’s, Gorou’s, or even his own. There was the boy, ready for action like an untrained idiot, which was why he was left behind with platitudes.

Then there is the tall one who all of them seem to revolve around. Kaito of the Northern Watertribe, the one who’d been the intellect behind the sound defeat of the Fire Navy. He was intimidating in an entirely different way than Dionu’s aunt and uncle were. Everything he did, he did with his own power, and he did it well. Dionu’d never had to take on a waterbender before, and he now understood that there were very many reasons not to. He would’ve died instantly, if Katio were more bloodthirsty and less focussed on making a good impression.

Negotiations went in his favour. He remained independent. He gained access to the city. He gained some of the organisation’s resources – with Dionu there to watch his fingers, which he now doubted would help him any if Kaito did decide to cheat somehow.

Not, that Dionu’d be able to stop him. It was very clear that Kaito, like Gorou, was a fighter beyond Dionu’s calibre.

It isn’t about fighting, he thinks. This is a test to see what Dionu will and can do to make use of this man’s intellect and machinations to further the organisation’s reach. He can already predict the destabilising effect the man will have on Ba Sing Se. And in turn, the Dai Li. Clearly, there is power to be had here, and the organisation has every intention of gaining it. Whether this is through Kaito or other means is irrelevant. Dionu will have to do his best. It does not matter what that entails. It never has.

He has never mattered beyond his subservience. He never will. He understood this a long time ago.

.

My bending isn’t retuning. I have nothing to pick the locks with. My only ideas for getting water is to breathe against the moist wall and lick off the droplets.

Damn.

They might just let me die of thirst.

I might just die.

In moments like these, when alone and without a clear task set before me – of my own choosing, of course, because I hate being told what to do – it’s hard to remember why dying again would be bad. After all, it could be permanent this time.

Couldn’t it?

And that doubt is why I still care. Death is still as uncertain as it ever was – while being the only certainty I’ve ever had.

“Haven’t I been over this enough?” I ask the darkness of my thoughts, “Haven’t I already decided to live to the best of my ability?”

 _So what are you doing here?_ The silence whispers. _You’re not even really trying_.

Ah.

Let’s see, then, what can be done about these shackles.

Their fastenings in the wall seem a bit loose, now that I pull on them a bit.

.


	23. Dinner

I know that there are only so many things we can do for one another, while there are infinite possibilities of things to do _to_ one another. And, usually, we practise the latter fanatically.

Realising that people are people is one thing. Realising that each person is a person is another.

And understanding that this realisation is just that, is quite another altogether. A realisation, after all, is by definition something that was not part of our subjective reality before. At least, we did not see it. In consequence, not everyone has realised.

And not everyone who has realised actually cares. And not everyone who has realised and cares has it in the forefront of their mind every time they meet a new person.

So.

It’s hard to put a line beneath all this, but, there is an end to each day, a finite number of hours, and the need to secure our existence, if we haven’t tired of it already. And sometimes, even if we’re tired. Sometimes especially.

Changing others… no. it neither works, nor is it appreciated. Any meaningful change must be wrought by the self. When one is ready, and when one is capable of realising what there is to incorporate it into the matrix of our single, meaningful-meaningless life. It’s all there for us to realise, but sometimes we cannot. We’re too trapped in what we call our lives. Trapped, caged, shackled by the dream of opulence.

Which then also means that I can live my life.

That I am part of those possible realisations. But that it is not my duty to make myself known to everyone. Quite possibly, the only way to bring about meaningful change is to lead by example.

I dream big.

I have lofty goals that only part of me believes I can achieve.

And I can break out of this sloppy imprisonment without bending. The shackles have come off the wall, now it is the door that stands in my way.

But what is this… this delay good for? What does the White Lotus gain? Why use a faulty prison? A metaphor taken too far? A delay to alert people in Ba Sing Se of my plans before I arrive? What for?

.

It ends up being too easy to get back to the garden.

And there, sitting calmly, is the old man drinking tea. Gorou and Mai have sat themselves beneath separate trees, each scowling their own frustration.

How nice of them to come looking.

How clever of them to find me.

How oddly convenient.

“So the boy has found his resolve,” the old man croaks and I’d like to shove my resolve up his arse, but.

“What have you done to my bending?” it comes out as more of a growl than I intend, but fuck this guy sideways, if it’s irreversible, I will kill him. Messily. There are plenty of stones around. And his friend. And I will find out if he has family and-

“It is merely a drug. It will wear off with this antidote,” he gestures to a small vile beside our unfinished game of Pai Sho.

I step closer, missing my sense of where everyone is in the room acutely. “Special precautions?” I manage to bite out, thinking of the sessions with Yugoda where she taught us about recovering from poisons. I ignore the slight pang in my chest at the thought of her. She’s so old, she might be dead by now. Sometimes, I regret leaving the North behind. But then I’d have had to stay to face my grief.

“None,” he says and picks it up to hand to me.

After drinking it, vile tasting and foul smelling, I turn to sit beside Gorou.

“Won’t the boy finish our game?”

I glance at the old man whose very existence I now loathe. “Does that get me access to your Order’s agents within the city, and their information?”

“The boy has already secured them,” the old man draws on his tea before looking back at the board, “It is an intriguing strategy.”

He probably doesn’t get to play many different opponents in Tananga. What a self-important arse. What was the point of imprisoning me, then? There aren’t that many chi blockers in this world, and the one who would be dangerous for me is Circus Girl, whose animosity towards me might not be gone, but I see no reason for her to want to take my bending instead of outright killing me.

I should perhaps sit down and play, secure more favours, but we’re already late as it is. And I really don’t want to. I have no desire to do that. I got what I came for. And that is enough. It is enough and I am beginning to think that I need a break. A break that is not like this. Not forced. Not because someone wanted to test me. No one deserves to test me. No one has the right.

Just as I don’t, either.

I don’t have a reward for the passing of tests I set anyway. But knowing you did well is its own reward, isn’t it? But for that you need a scale, you need experience, and you need acknowledgement. And that is what so much of life is about, acknowledgement.

This whole thing smells so badly of the kind of political machinations I wouldn’t want any part in. is Pakku involved somehow? Does my status as his former student reflect on him in a certain way here?

What I need to do, is move on.

“The next time we meet,” I say, “I’ll play.” And until then, I’ll have thought of an adequate means of revenge.

If my bending doesn’t return… I will. I won’t become a monster of rage. Even this man must have innocents in his circle of acquaintance and I won’t chance widening the range of targets. No, it is him who deserves my retaliation, if I decide to carry it out. This doesn’t have to turn into a mockery of a Vendetta. I’m not a gangster. Not yet, anyway.

Mai and Gorou have gotten up. They haven’t said a word. I suppose they’re angry with me. We leave the place behind, sun creeping steadily up the horizon.

“They took your bending,” Mai states quietly, back on the ship.

I nod. Thanks for reminding me. Like I don’t feel the lack acutely. She doesn’t deserve biting comments, either. It was good of her to come looking, whatever her reasons. I might have needed rescuing.

“Apologies for delaying our schedule,” is what I settle on, watching her face for any hints as to her thoughts. Surprise, displeasure. Not the apology she wanted.

“Did you know this could happen?” her tone is slightly accusatory. Is she calling me reckless?

I look away from her, to the railing. It’s a bit too slack. I’ll have to tighten it. Like my reign over my anger. She does not deserve the snapped answer whetting my tongue. “I… should have,” I manage to admit.

She narrows her eyes. “Why go to them when you already secured the yakuza?”

Mai knows that both of my actions were risky. And she’s right that I should have been as cautious with the Order as with the yakuza. I will take this as the lesson that it is. That doesn’t mean lessons aren’t painful, as all growth is. “It’s always best to have more than one source of information.”

“Do you trust them after this?”

“Of course not. Always verify,” next time, beforehand. As much as possible. It was naïve of me to think I could rely so much on Pakku’s tile and teachings. I might have forgotten some important things. The order might have changed since his time spent with them. So many possibilities, and as always, I know nothing.

“Then…” her head is cocked to the side, mouth a thin line.

She didn’t just go. She came to look for me. I will trust. But verify. “I can’t afford to spurn opportunities when they present themselves to me. But yes, I was reckless and too trusting.”

Let’s see where this concession takes us.

She makes for Circus Girl and her brother by the bow. And I tighten the railing.

.

People aren’t usually very fun to be around. That is, they tend not to be, when they’ve seen and done too much shit to think of things with the distance required for humour. And if they _are_ fun to be around, they have to put a lot of effort into it. Or you yourself have developed a darker sense of humour that relies on there being misery in this world. It’s a very realistic approach.

As it is, I’ve managed to acquire a rather dour entourage of people who would, for the most part, rather _not_. Do a funny, that is.

Except for Eyebrows. It’s a rare thing, to find someone so entrenched into the yakuza system who has genuinely put in the effort to be humorous. To be just a bit more approachable. It could be a strategy to present a front of leadership within the organisation that allows for all sorts of people to feel marginally represented. Sort of like a representational democracy. With less representation and more violence. Ah, even that depends on where you live.

But somehow, I doubt it. Dionu seems, for the most part, genuine. That he’s found a way to be humorous in his profession at the same time as he’s got the piercings shows just how normalised some things are for Dionu, while others seem too strange not to incorporate them as they are seen. It’s all about what values you grow up with. What you do with them later in life when you’re confronted with differing views. How well you cope.

Humour is often a strategy to guide the eye. It’s not necessarily deliberate. Sometimes humour is a front to hide insecurity. I wonder what it is in Dionu’s case. I’ll find out, over the next few months. We’ll be in close proximity, after all. The yakuza will provide us with housing in the city. Lower ring, but large enough for all of us. Every few weeks, myself and Dionu will leave the city on the boat, to keep up the front of traders. And we’ll be trading. Largely in information. Or informants.

As you do.

It’s not true slavery. But there’s a fine line between acting to ensure your survival, where the circumstances of your station in society are being made use of, and slavery. The chicken might be considered a person’s property, but not the human. But if the human does things in order to survive, doesn’t have many other choices or hasn’t been made aware of them…

It’s a cruel world.

Not that different to where I come from, just less sanitary and a bit more magical.

I blink myself back to the present. Spacing out like that can’t be good. I should meditate later.

“When you made that deal with Aunt, I hadn’t expected you to make things difficult for us so soon,” Dionu says in a light tone, “I mean, I thought she put the fear of her _consequences_ in people pretty thoroughly. You’re just… really odd.”

It’s not the words. They’re not funny. It’s the way he says it. Childish incomprehension coupled with haughty metal eyebrows threatening the territory of forehead just a bit too much, digging trenches. It would make me smile, if I hadn’t been thinking about what constitutes as slavery seconds ago.

I give him a shrug. “Sometimes life happens to you when you’re in the middle of something.”

“Life happens, sure,” he crosses his arms, “But it tends to happen differently to other people.”

Right. I am lucky to be free enough to make my own decisions. To live by them. To see that it is possible. Because it is. There’s just fewer comforts. Less baggage. Or, in my case, too much, so that lugging anything else around seems like overkill weight-training.

“It’s always fun to mix things up a little. Bring excitement into the mundane routines of life and so on,” I say this in a tone that makes obvious just how much bullshit I think I’ve just put into the air. It should be especially strange to him, since his routines probably consist of beating up the local upstarts who think it’s funny to encroach upon someone else’s territory. I suppose that’s the problem when institutions have been there for so long that changing the status-quo seems impossible. That was called moderation once, wasn’t it?

Not, that I think much of keeping territories and all that, but some things happen to be reality. That is, enough people believe it, so it must be true. It works a bit like values do.

“Mundane routines,” he mutters, before raising his voice, even though it was clear that I’d be able to hear the mockery, “Anyway. Let’s move out, before we get to wait for our next slot, which is next week. I’m not sure I want to be stuck on a ship with your mundane routines for that long.”

“Of course,” I nod and smile and give the command.

It’s midday, a gentle wind that carries us with enough speed that we might even be capable of arriving on time after all. If I help us along a bit, by making the waves less choppy so they don’t reduce our speed so much, no one says anything.

So ungrateful.

Gorou appears at Dionu’s shoulder, startling the younger man. Dionu, grimaces a little, turning back to me, wants to continue our little lead-up conversation to what he wants to say to me.

“We should talk to the others about how Ba Sing Se’s going to go,” Gorou says, speaking just a beat before Dionu can. The latter snaps his mouth shut, looking torn between annoyance and aquiescence.

“Sure,” I say, “At dinner? I wanted to cook for tonight.”

Gorou nods. Then he doesn’t leave. Sort of standing in Dionu’s personal space. It’s creeping him out. Ah, how nice to see my own discomfort in others. Gorou hasn’t really been very good about boundaries since my small excursion into the realm of non-bending.

“Look,” Dionu says to me, tense, “I’m not one for the subtle approaches.”

He glances at the dangerous bender and the gesture has something of a grudging trust to it. Perhaps I should ask Gorou how well they know each other. The question is whether that would be too much of a personal question for our rather utilitarian acquaintance. Then again, bonds are forged by knowing one another. By expecting to see one another, by acting and reacting. By being vulnerable and having that risk treated appropriately. Reciprocation.

I will ask when the time feels right.

Probably never, then.

I shrug. “What is it?”

“We’re not splitting up in Ba Sing Se. You made a deal with us for contacts and lodgings. I’m both, to you lot.”

Not surprising. I expected something like this. “How much are you required to spy on us while we’re in the city, then? And is trying to recruit us after all also part of your job description?”

He blinks. “General things. Where you go, who you talk to. And yeah, we all have standing orders to try and bind you to us more permanently.”

So. I didn’t actually expect him to answer. I just wanted to let him know that he doesn’t have to be subtle, if I know about it. And if he’s not being subtle, I don’t have to pay attention as much.

Now I’ll pay more attention because I can’t believe that’s all. Admit to a few minor things, and cover up the grand spiel. Way to go and slide down the spiral of paranoia.

Perhaps, depending on what I get up to, he plans to infiltrate those operations? Or does he mean to endear himself to me? He means for me to underestimate him, certainly. Let’s see what he tries with it.

“I appreciate the warning, Dionu, but I’m not quite sure what to make of you,” I tell him, turning back to look at the horizon. We’re being half-honest here, the both of us, and it’s making things more complicated. A lot like the politics back home in the Tribe. I might be a little rusty. Been on my own in these things for a long time. Of course, there were the others. I never travelled alone, but it was me who made the decisions. For wanting to control things, or by necessity.

Doesn’t matter which, in the end. I won’t stop.

“I don’t expect any trust,” he replies, coming to stand beside me to look out at the water. “I just think we can work together without all the posturing I usually have to deal with. You seem like the straight-forward type.”

Gorou actually laughs at him. Then he leaves. Just like that.

So unhelpful.

“Sure,” I say. I tend to play things close to my chest because I know that everyone always has more than one reason for doing things a certain way. And just because one of them plays into my cards nicely, doesn’t mean the other is the same. Does Dionu think it’ll be that easy? Is his goal to make me doubt myself and my preconceived notions of his complete allegiance to the yakuza?

Dionu seems like he desperately needs someone to be straight with him. Somewhat secure in this mad enterprise. Then again, only time will tell what he needs and what he doesn’t.

“We could come to an agreement,” I suggest, thinking of how badly this might bite me in the butt later, when I’ll have come to rely on it as fact. But I get the feeling that Dionu’s and my acquaintance will not be a passing one. Setting down some vague guidelines for behaviour might be beneficial. Negotiations then have some sort of basis.

“What kind?”

“We can make an agreement to base decisions on the mutual interest of having to live together for a while. That means non-interference in certain aspects. Making decisions with one another if it impacts the living situation. That sort of thing,” it’s a risky offer. It builds on mutual trust. But I could do with someone who trusts me to a measured degree. Who will rely on me somewhat, to be honest, no matter who stands behind them as a larger presence that guides every action.

“Alright,” he says after a long silence. “I’ll hold you to that. But I have one more question: what’s your real name?”

I laugh. But it isn’t an innocent thing that he asks of me. The yakuza he comes from deal with interesting spirits. Rituals. Is doesn’t do well to ignore that. But if I don’t tell him now, we will never even have the basis for trust. Besides, I have another name that lies half forgotten in the back of my mind. “How observant of you. I will let you know it. My name is Kaito, son of Hotaka of the Northen Watertribe. In turn, answer me this: how well do you know Gorou?”

“Kaito, then,” he nods. “Gorou was the one to train my bending when I was younger.”

Ah. A teacher. A vicious one, which makes Dionu far more dangerous that I first assumed. It really is fortunate that I have made agreements with the yakuza, rather than having to contend with them inside the impenetrable city. If only so that I might know who Gorou betrays me for, if he does.

Perhaps they ought to rename it. But then, we would be missing the irony and we can’t have that.

.

**Dinner and intentions.**

The room is dimly lit, the oil lamp swinging gently from the ceiling as the boat rocks with the waves. The wood creaks, the ropes whine and the sails sag and billow.

Perfect time for dinner. The silence is tense. No one is touching their bowls of stew.

Well. No one but me who is now sitting down with the others. “Bon apetit.”

Hiraku follows suit, glancing at the others uncertainly. Gorou rolls his eyes and begins to eat. Mai reaches out and finally we’re all doing it.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But, alright. This is what we have to get through, I suppose. “Alright. Now that we’re all done, here’s what I want to talk about. Ba Sing Se. What do we want to do there? Who actually wants to be there? Why are we doing it? Who are we likely to meet? Who is dangerous? What do we do when we encounter the Dai Li? How do we divide chores? What do we want from our living arrangements? How do we compromise?”

I let them digest the questions for a bit. That was a lot at once.

“What do we want? I’ll begin. I want to gain access to various groups of people there who would be willing to support a stand against the Fire Nation, or even actively participate. I also want to see where the Dai Li stands on this. And, if possible, I want access to the university’s library,” I count those out, watching the others.

Mai knows about my Dai Li plans already. When we first spoke civilly, that was part of the conversation with the cook. She also knows my thoughts on the Fire Nation. But the library surprises her.

Circus Girl looks generally uninterested. Gorou, focussed and unsurprised. Dionu only nods. Hiraku is attentive and worried. Fon and Ebisu… they’re hard to read. Peter is smiling.

“I want to be the one to engage the Dai Li,” Gorou says.

Unexpected. Interesting. “Alright. We’ll discuss the parameters for that in a bit.”

“I want to live quietly,” Mai announces. “I want time to myself and a safe environment for To- for Peter.”

Circus Girl only nods.

“We can agree to keep the dangerous parts of our activities away from the place we’ll live in,” I say. “This would be part of our living arrangements.”

“I want to learn to read,” Haruto says, “And to fight.”

I nod slowly. “We will find a place to train and keep in shape.”

Dionu clears his throat. “I’ve got a place in mind.”

“Alright. What about what you want to do in the city?”

“I’ll honour our agreement. Beyond that, I want to have my own space and do as I like.”

I nod easily. Well, it’s to be expected. Then I look at Fon and Ebisu. “What about you two?”

Fon shrugs. “I don’t mind helping out. Don’t have any plans.”

“I’ll do what I want. I got a cousin in the lower ring. Might stay with him for a bit,” Ebisu says. He looks at Gorou as he does, waiting for his reaction.

Gorou looks at him and gives a nod of permission like he doesn’t care either way. Maybe he really doesn’t. I don’t know how close he was with the crew before I happened to them.

“Okay. Peter? Anything to add?”

He shakes his head.

“Now, as for who wants to be there? We have one last chance to drop anyone off somewhere on the shore. Other than that, leaving the city should be easy once we’ve all gotten inside.”

No one says anything to that.

“Alright. My motivation is to hopefully end this war. This is why I need allies who I will be informing as many people as possible of the comet that is due to arrive in less than a year and will give firebenders a huge advantage that I don’t want them to make use of to, for example, exterminate all waterbenders. Secondarily, I want to see what can be done for the millions of refugees and who profits from current conditions for cheap labour and near-slavery. Then I want to spread that knowledge. Not to mention the human trafficking. I kind of want to stop that, too, if I can.”

Gorou is grinning, bloodthirsty. Ironic, for a former slave trader. Even Fon smiles. Dionu stares. Mai and Circus Girl frown. Haruto stares in wonder, even though he knows all this – and it seems like I’ll have to talk to the boy about hero worship and to stop putting me on a pedestal. Peter looks smug for some reason.

Then there’s silence again. Ah, no one likes to share around here. “Okay, I’ll make this easy. Who is here because they see no other path right now?”

Mai, Circus Girl, Fon, Ebisu, Dionu. As expected.

“Who is here because they want to be?”

That’s Gorou, Peter, Haruto and me.

“Right, so. Because I’m probably the one who’ll do my own legwork, I’ll be encountering Dai Li agents, citizens of all rings and professions, as well as nobles, and one or two unknowns. I’d prefer it if none of you were involved in any of that if you don’t want to be on your own. So. Don’t follow me when I go out because I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety,” I pause, then: “As to the Dai Li. Leave them to Gorou and I. Try to obey any curfews if they implement them, and keep your mouths shut about the war unless you’re sure the person you’re speaking to isn’t an informant and can keep a secret.”

We’ll be in a hostile suspicious environment. We’ll be spied on. Informed on. I don’t doubt the Dai Li will be watching us.

I let all of that settle.

Stand. “We can divide chores when we’re actually in the place we’ll be staying at.”

Then I drift into the dim light on deck.

.

It is dusk, the tide brings us into the harbour neatly, smoothly. I don’t bend. There is no need to announce what I can do to a city where secrets are currency of the highest order.

Few lanterns mark the harbour walls. Better for the city guard’s eyes to know the darkness than to be blind to the shadows. Fortunately, we are not what they are looking for.

It’s easy, practised, when Dionu makes the exchange with the harbour master. Simple, when our cargo is unloaded.

One of Dionu’s trading associates guides us through immigrations. No questions about our intentions for our stay. They’ll just be watching us to find out.


	24. Ba Sing Se

Ba Sing Se is not a city easily navigated. The inner and outer ring sure, they’re distinguishable, separated by a small circular canal, but that doesn’t account for the sheer scale of the outer ring. No matter what the Dai Li may want, in truth, the outer ring is divided into gang territories. They’re just far subtler about the markings than they ever were in my first life.

It’s people who represent the marks.

That’s the only thing that keeps the Dai Li from cutting them down brutally. Well, that and the trade the gangs bring in. All of them have strong ties to the merchants who deliver any goods to the city, if they’re not already running the entire operation. It’s the nobles who desire these goods, and try as the Dai Li might, there would be severe consequences to denying them their comforts. Because the nobles are still in charge of politics and the law. They have their own retainers, connections upon connections to one another and their guards tied to their service by loyalty and honour.

In the Impenetrable City, every noble worth their silks has a few benders as guards.

While in truth, the Dai Li might be the most physically powerful might within the city, it does still matter where the money is. Where the blood shows. No matter how disgusting that is, it makes things easier for me.

So, the city is hard to navigate when you know nothing of its workings, and it’s even harder to go unnoticed while you get the hang of it. This is why it was such a good idea to try finding contacts who already know all of this, and would tell us.

Thankfully, there usually isn’t a need for me to go unnoticed these days, which makes the transition smoother. We’re just selling a few things. Trying to make a living, you know?

When I think about it, we’re all not that different. We do what we can in our situations. We live and die by necessities that force us to consider things in a different light, every now and again.

But to the experienced eye, we’re not here for the simplicity of a merchant’s life. We’re here to cause trouble for someone. And it pays to know for whom.

.

Oh, how I don’t envy the countless refugees this. And I do mean countless. Some might call them a swarm, but that is not what they are. They are not a coordinated threat. They are not a wave. They are, quite simply, desperate in an all-too-human way.

Flat hunting in an over-populated city whose social hierarchy is far too explicit to even have a vague hope of finding a flat that’s without holes in the roof, or vermin-infested, or near one of the ever-broken sewage pipes… it makes you realise just how those in power view those with less.

Well. It’s a good thing that we have Dionu with us who has contacts and has managed to find us an acceptable place. I wouldn’t even mind staying on the ship permanently, but there aren’t enough proper cabins for all of us. It’s rare to find such an apartment with four bedrooms. One for the women, one for Gorou and Fon, one for Haruto and I, one for Dionu. Peter will go where he wants. All I could complain about is the leaky roof, but that is repair work that we can manage to do in a day. Separate flats might have made some sense, but none of us have suggested it. And until the others decide they want to leave, this is easiest.

Besides, I don’t know how Mai feels about it, but I’m sure neither Peter nor I would be glad to live separately. It’s been such a relief, speaking to someone in my first language.

Gorou won’t leave because he’s interested in what I’m doing here. Gathering resources, allies and perhaps even recruiting people to move against the Fire Nation before the comet arrives.

Fon… does what either Gorou or Dionu tells him. Dionu won’t suggest separation because he has orders to keep track of all of us.

Haruto won’t because he doesn’t want whatever familiarity he has with us to be lost. He’s young and scared and angry. Especially the latter, which is why I’m almost hesitant to teach him how to fight before he’s found some way to release his anger in a way that isn’t violent. There’s always two participants in a fistfight and the one who throws the punch… well, it can be quite detrimental to the emotional and psychological state.

I’m fairly certain that while neither Circus Girl, nor Mai know where to go from here, they’d prefer not to have to deal with the added danger of living alone. Unfortunately, being a woman does come with its own dangers.

All things considered, we’re very lucky.

.

Ba Sing Se is a convoluted mess of well-groomed, blooming ignorance; the usual kind of systemic injustice, only more pronounced (accentuated with little flourishes because what is justice, really?); rampant, close to unregulated markets where you will starve if you don’t haggle well; and pockets of crime that have spread themselves into tartan threads in order to survive. You would be lucky if someone wealthy enough needed a servant and made you into what basically amounts to a slave, since jobs are scarce or worse and money is everything. Money is time, is freedom; is nourishment; is meeting someone you can truly love; is the roof above your head; is little, pleasant things; is the people you can meet; is every fucking aspect of your life because humans are awful, greedy creatures who only love each other when they have the time. The money.

Ba Sing Se is an accurate picture of a _fraction_ of the cruelty humans are capable of inflicting upon one another.

Ba Sing Se is also a little boy crying because he’s lost and having to judge whether verifying the honesty of that is worth the potential suspicion of the parent. The child seems relatively clean and his clothing was mended well with sturdy patches that seem almost better quality than the original garments. I suppose he’s not a thief – or just a very good one, but then won’t he have earned it?

I’ve not done my shopping yet, so I crouch down, knowing my money is secured to my chest. “Hello,” I say and look more closely at the big, round eyes watering a rounder face. Well-fed, for lower ring.

Mute.

“Have you lost your parent? If I lift you up high, shout and wave?” – a sad nod.

This is how, in the midst of a city bursting with horrors lurking behind every corner, I meet an honest woman whose lot in life saw fit to leave her and her son the only survivors of her fishing village. She makes a living off sex work, earning just enough for herself and her son from one of the slightly less exploitative brothels in the middle ring that they can afford him clothes and something of an education.

It’s an unofficial school that some of the refugees started that survives off of small monthly payments from all who go there – and some anonymous donations. They make me wonder a bit at the do-gooder, but not all people are automatically horrible just because they have more money than they need. I doubt it’s blood-money, but the anonymity is making me suspicious.

Anyway, I won’t be telling Mai or Peter about the school because I doubt he’d want to go, but I do decide to check it out. It’s a good idea, and perhaps something similar could be done in the lower ring, where the only education any child is likely to get is of the pickpocketing variety.

.

The school is a largely unused warehouse whose only redeeming quality is that the rainwater only drips down in some places, instead of everywhere. No one is repairing it because then the owner would use it for its intended purpose rather than tolerating the current goings-on because of ignorance of said goings-on.

It works because the children are entertained by four elderly refugees whose lessons vary depending on the children’s interests. They’re fed and housed for their efforts and it has the feeling of an improvised modern day-care, so the parents can go to work or secure other necessities for their existences.

My presence is accepted with a bit of wariness, but as soon as I manage to explain the sewage system to an eight-year-old in simple terms, I’m accepted, more or less. I decide to stop by every once in a while.

Doesn’t hurt to impart knowledge to people to whom it will make a difference beyond curiosity. Not, that the latter is deplorable. It’s just that knowledge can be an advantage that all of these brats could use.

I’ll have to talk to Dionu about helping to set up something similar. Without the women finding out because Peter would never forgive me if it resulted in him ending up in day-care. That won’t stop me from bringing Haruto here, though. He wants to learn to read. So he will. And it will keep him busy for a bit.

.

Iroh knows that you always meet twice in life.

But he never expected to meet that young waterbender who in his grief for the princess traded clothes with Zuko and let them go. He’d let them go and the only price to pay was that of staying out of trouble. That was a rare kind of goodwill, force of fate, whatever it deserved to be called – perhaps even spiritual intervention – but Iroh made certain to make use of it.

To find this waterbender here, in Ba Sing Se, in an attempt at helping to support the creation of a school, is more than surprising.

Iroh counts himself lucky that he won’t have to travel to the Northern Watertribe to repay their debt. It’s a convoluted string of events that allowed for Iroh and Zuko to escape that icy fortress alive and mostly uninjured.

And Kaito, of the Northern Watertribe, was at the centre of them. That he now helps to educate children with no means of gaining other knowledge beyond an apprenticeship somewhere – which are rare – is even more telling of his character than that he let Iroh and his nephew go. It reveals a benevolence towards other people that Iroh wishes Zuko would display on more occasions.

And the way he manages to keep the children still by offering enough interesting commentary, or stories, about a young lion turtle whose adventures requires the knowledge of how to calculate this exact problem is more than charming. Iroh is curious. He so likes to meet intriguing people. There are plenty here in Ba Sing Se. But he has especially good reasons for approaching this person.

He does so once the children have been sent packing.

“Don’t go causing trouble you can’t get out of on your own, brats!”

This seems less than constructive to proper child-rearing, but Iroh knows the value of causing mischief as a young child. It balances all other harsh repressions of growing up and it can only do them good to test their boundaries, of which there are many. And it is good advice.

“Hello,” Iroh says to Kaito, uncertain of the name he uses in this place. The man is surprised, if not as surprised as Iroh expects him to be. “It’s wonderful what you’re doing for them here.”

“Hello,” Kaito stretches out a hand, a laugh in his eyes, “We do what we can. The name’s Kai.”

“Mushi. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he returns, and Iroh can tell that, for all it’s worth, it’s genuine. Iroh considers honesty in interactions to be a prize beyond mere riches. “Are you interested in helping out around here? We can always use it, if you have the time. There’s no pay, I’m afraid.”

“A shame. But all the more honourable of you to be here. I’m sure a young man has other things to be doing in a city like this.”

“Oh, I do,” he laughs, and Iroh doesn’t doubt it. This is a man too shrewd, even in his kindness to lead a life of tranquillity as Iroh has come to enjoy so thoroughly. “I’m only here once a week.”

“All the same, I’d be delighted to help.”

And that is how Iroh ends up helping to teach delightful young children how to read.

.

The pipe smoke burns in the back of Ranra’s throat as she watches the other people inside the restaurant _talk_ and _laugh_ and _smile_.

It’s disgusting how fake it is. She can see it in the small shifts, the expressions when the other’s gaze is averted and thinks to herself that she should’ve stayed inside her refugee hovel. Should’ve settled down with a book and a bit of rice wine and Boris purring in her lap.

The wine she’s been served is quite savoury, so she supposes she can wait until she’s finished it, but if the dolt doesn’t show up soon, she’s going to leave and ignore it the next time he sends a messenger Ranra’s way, ‘ _I_ _need your help_.’

It’s almost pathetic how powerful it made her feel for a moment, being the one asked to help. It’s the only thing that could get her to agree to meet the man anywhere and she has the suspicion that Guo knows it. If not consciously, then unconsciously.

She watches the lying continue all around, hates how the noise washes over her and does not stay noise, but she is forced to hear the words. “… you’re so _funny_ …” “…I don’t know how you do it…” “I really admire the way you chase after your dreams…”

Yeah, right. His jokes are as flat as a ten-year-old’s chest; whatever it is she’s doing is clearly not important enough to be doing it herself and she really doesn’t want to let her know just how _high_ she is held in her esteem; and what does that girl care about dreams with her soft hands, fainted face and unfortunate lack of an education that could have made her think for herself, (not-)paid for by daddy dearest, the big-shot textile merchant?

She inhales her pipe’s cancerous smoke, swirls her wine, exhales and takes a sip of the wine. Sweet after the smoke, just heavy enough to roll over her tongue nicely.

“…terrifies me. The world is going to shit, I tell you,” now that sounds worthwhile. The voice comes from directly behind her, young in a way that suggests he’s not had the time to damage his vocal chords with whatever is trendy to slowly kill yourself with these days and very much brimming with honesty. How… disconcerting in between all those platitudes and pleasantries that leave such a bad taste in Ranra’s ears that she almost hates other people on principle.

“Don’t be such a baby,” that’s the girl he’s with. Sweet, teasing, though she can hear the slight disgust. Oh, she wants a big boy, doesn’t she? A strong man to hold her tight and fuck her right. Maybe the other way around.

“I’m serious,” yes, that much is obvious. People take their own worries so seriously, Ranra wonders at how they manage to walk with every step weighing more than a cart of wheat, “They were just attacked on the street, not far from my apartment.”

Mh, yes, that she’s heard about. A boy and a girl, maybe twenty or so, found dead in an alley, the signs of a struggle evident on both of them. Their last friend is still missing. She doubts her remains will ever be recovered. She wonders at those young people sometimes, who believe that going out after dark on their own is a good idea. But it seems to be the privilege of the young to be too trusting and at the same time to demand that that trust never be broken. Or the Dai Li is doing good work. In their books, anyway.

The Dai Li may keep the civilian population quiet with their brainwashing, but everyone who came from the outside, everyone who ignores it, everyone who sees the scars and burns knows. The war is not as removed as it seems. Ranra knows. She lost all he had to it. To the Fire Nation. So there’s not much to trust in this city, if it’s not towards a single person who would do more than smile and nod and agree with everything.

“So? It happens all the time,” a little bitch that one is. Well, not like Ranra’s one to talk, although she likes to at the very least claim to be a big bitch. She’s been called a bastard a lot, even though it was never her birth that was questionable. Even Boris sometimes gives her that look. However, she doubts the little shit’s brain can actually process the insult. He does convey it very well, though. The cat picked well when he showed up on Ranra’s doorstep and refused to ‘shoo’. Instead it wound around her legs, flirting with danger.

“How can you be so… callous?” Someone’s been reading books. How interesting, in this city. How intriguing, in the lower ring.

“How are you not, Haruto?” Good question. She drags on his pipe and takes the rest of her wine in a shallow swallow that she doesn’t move her lips for. Time to leave. She knocks the ash from the pipe, gets up, thanking her good sense to pay the wine beforehand because she knows what a leech Guo is when he actually shows up and shrugs into her coat. She slings the scarf around her neck, feeling the coarseness of it, remembering why she doesn’t just throw it out – an old thought-process, worn like the scarf and obsolete these days. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t be rid of it now, not without having to spend money on a replacement. She feels her brows draw together.

She turns to the door and notices the two young people, whose conversation she bothered listening to, looking up at her. She stares back blankly and the girl hastily avoids her eyes. The boy, though, can’t be older than sixteen, stares wide-eyed. What an odd little bugger. She allows her eyes to brush over his form, then observes he’s a on the scrawny side and looks back to the door while she’s already back in motion. That boy is right to be terrified, poor thing. But there was more in those eyes than terror. An interest that should not have been there.

It’s awkward, this gait of Ranra’s, leaning too heavily on her cane for her tastes, but she can’t change that, the leg just isn’t as strong as it used to be and she hates it. Thighbone fractured at thirty-five and ten years later she’s still limping. Doesn’t even have the grey hair to make people think it’s her age.

Guo bursts through the door just as she comes close enough to open it. He’s panting, a mess of panic and relief in his face. He stumbles towards her and lays a heavy hand on her shoulder which she hates even more than the man’s face, “Thank the spirits you’re still here.”

She raises her brows, “The spirits had very little to do with it.”

Guo laughs, pushes past her, inside, ears red from the cold outside. “Come on, _Ranra_ , I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She sighs. “Why I bother, I have no idea.”

They return to her table, ashtray and empty wine glass still there. Guo, of course, knows her usual and so knows which chair to sit in. At least this he does without his general air of obnoxiousness. Ranra removes her scarf, her coat and leans the cane against the table before she sits without grimacing. Guo looks at her knowingly anyway. Bastard.

He’s responsible for it, so it’s not surprising he’s smug it still gives Ranra trouble. Arrogance is not attractive on Guo. His face is too plump for anyone to believe he could wear it well.

“So,” she finally says, having observed enough of Guo to determine what has him in such a tizzy, “Who is it this time? Your sister? The dog? Your son?”

They are from the same town. Guo was a ward of Ranra’s father, when they were children, a runaway and companion to Ranra and her brother. He grew up to be the stable master and when needed an enforcer. His sister was too young to have much to do with the boys and Ranra, how they’d been.

“She’s your sister, too,” Guo grumbles and so reveals that it is either the tiny creature they deign to call a dog or his son. Ranra thinks it’s not the rat because it would never consider knocking on her door in the middle of the night. What is more, why would Guo consider Ranra family, still? Ranra certainly doesn’t.

“Guo, we aren’t related,” she says and fishes her tabacco from her coat pocket. She packs the pipe again, puts the tobacco back where it belongs and lights it with the matches Guo hands her from where he’s filched them earlier, the damned pickpocket. She doesn’t comment, as she never did and the other doesn’t say anything about it either. The fucker. No apologetic bone in his body.

“Close enough,” he says, shrugging in that infuriating nonchalant manner that tells her _exactly_ how embarrassed Guo is. Very. He clearly still has issues with expressing his feelings, just as he used to when he was a snot-nosed brat on Ranra’s doorstep.

He wants something now, too. Only it’s not food or shelter for his little sister, but the whereabouts of his son. If it weren’t for the fact that Ranra knows of most of the goings-on in town – can’t not, when it’s all she does all day, listening in the tobacco shop she owns that the official police force frequent – Guo would never even consider asking him for help. (Like Boris, he chose right, didn’t he?)

For good reason. They hate each other.

She eyes the room for a moment as she takes a long drag from her pipe, contemplating the merits of allowing Guo to stall as she debates her contempt for all persons inside. She signals the young waiter for another glass of wine while she’s at it. The boy nods and is off to the bar.

“Has the rat chewed on your knickers again, then?” she asks and enjoys Guo’s blush. It doesn’t reach his cheeks like it used to, but his neck turns a nice colour, as do the tips of his ears. How he still allows himself to be embarrassed by these things, Ranra doesn’t know. They’ve certainly known each other for long enough that Ranra used to make a game of it, but it’s in large parts lost its appeal, like most things. These days she exists as a creature of habit and little else. (Pathetic, like the rest of the abandoned world. Or not so abandoned, if the rumours about the Avatar are to be believed.)

“Thank the spirits, no,” Guo says a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Then I don’t see the emergency,” the waiter appears at her elbow and exchanges the glasses without invading her space. He’ll get a nice tip, that one. He’s been working in this place for a while now, and never has he annoyed Ranra with smelly perfume, a horrible voice or spilling things. Must have grown up in a restaurant or something to know these sorts of things, he’s too young to have been in the business for long otherwise.

“You never do,” Guo is a little resentful at that. What does he expect? Ranra never cared much, won’t start now.

“Hn,” she says, smiles and adds, “Nothing to drink?”

Guo begins to snarl, then holds himself back. He needs something from Ranra, after all. “You arse. What a thing to ask someone who’s trying to _stop_.”

A light gasp from behind Ranra. Ah, the young ones are listening in. Good instincts for sniffing out interesting conversations. The waiter says nothing, but his posture shifts. Ranra thinks it might be amusement. Yes, a nice tip indeed.

“You weren’t much of a drinker in the first place.”

“Of course you think that. Because then you would have to admit that _you_ have a problem,” Guo really wants a fight. He often used to be like that, angry with the world, and often enough Ranra herself. Now what he wants is to vent and he’ll do it passive-aggressively until he’s gotten what he wants. Then, he’ll be openly hostile and ungrateful. Ever the same. Ranra wonders how Nick will react to the presence of his father in the place he decided to hide from him in.

“Problems-“

“Are only opportunities. Heard that one before. Get us some bread and butter, will you?”

She raises a brow, Guo always likes hearing himself end that sentence more than when Ranra does it. The man only orders bread when he can’t pick what he wants and when he can’t decide, he is dealing with emotional problems of a magnitude Ranra doesn’t care for. Never did. Guo is an imbecile at the best of times, but he gets worse when he worries. He’s spent his entire life worrying. Ranra never did understand that. To worry is to hurt twice.

“Nick is missing,” he suddenly blurts out.

Ranra smiles widely. Guo narrows his eyes.

“I spoke to him this morning just after breakfast. He wanted a place to stay. He should be in my so-called guest bedroom at this very moment,” Ranra says coolly and wonders why she even left the place. Guo could’ve just said so and they wouldn’t be having this conversation. (Maybe she wanted someone to pick a fight with.)

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” the idiot knows perfectly well that Ranra doesn’t care for alerting anyone about anyone’s whereabouts. Especially when that ‘anyone’ can take care of themselves.

“Evidently not.”

Guo’s face twists, “You _haughty miserable old hag_!”

Ranra drags on her pipe and taps it against the rim of the ashtray. Then she looks at Guo again and sees that there’s not much more of a rise to get out of him without risking a punch to the face. Guo would care little about the spectators. He’s pesky that way.

The Dai Li doesn’t get involved in domestic matters unless they ‘disturb the peace’ or ‘threaten the culture of Ba Sing Se’. Someone punching a middle-aged woman is hardly their concern. Then they would have to care about spousal abuse.

“Your son is fourteen. He goes to work. He knows which parts of the ring to avoid. You need to allow him some free reign over his own life before he decides it’s too much and leaves,” Ranra finally says, “Just think of how you were at that age.”

.

I would have thought that building up contact with the university as someone not with the inner circle of nobility and using a false name would be far harder. Because these are the young scions of the most wealthy individuals within the country, it’s an atmosphere of snobbery that I don’t like and don’t fit into well. However, it’s where I have access to knowledge that at least isn’t Fire Nation propaganda. Not, that it won’t be carefully regulated and certainly redacted to suit at least the nobility’s narrative.

But I am here, through the passing interest of Professor Singh whose interest in Gorou’s small sculptures and my various efforts at traditional Watertribe carvings led us to hold a conversation of some substance.

“These look authentic,” he’d commented, wire-framed glasses slipping on his nose as he brought one of the carvings to his face to better insect it.

“That’s because they are,” I’d replied lazily, allowing my native accent to flow into my speech, curious as to whether he would catch it.

He had. “You made them?”

I’d shrugged, smiled. “I figure if I get to see the world, the world should get to see some of me.”

He’d laughed. “How long have you been away from the North Pole? Were you at the siege?”

The question was slightly insensitive, I’d thought then, but all I’d done was nod and narrow my eyes at him.

It’d been 'clear that he’d caught how improper I’d felt the question was. Even so, he’d continued, in that unapologetic way nobles tended to have around those they perceived of a lesser social standing than themselves. I wasn’t used to that sort of treatment, and so it rankled. “Would you be willing to give the university the opportunity to hear of the events first-hand? We haven’t been able to get a decent account of it, since the Northern Watertribe doesn’t have dealings with Ba Sing Se University.”

My eyebrows had risen, and my tone made it clear what I thought of the way he’d treated me. “Didn’t you get an official account from one of the representatives? You must have _some_ contacts at court.”

“There is a difference between what the King is told and what one might tell a scholar,” he’d said. He’d been frowning as he continued, scrutinising my posture, as though re-evaluating who I could be. “The King takes no interest in what the university does beyond offering some interesting conversation partners when he gets bored with his pet bear,” he’d been rather dismissive of his ruler, but I’d thought then that this man had to be aware of who actually ran the country far better than myself. “Your description of the battle would be of great interest to myself and a few select others.”

“For the chroniclers? Well. I suppose that you’d want to document this, eh?”

The casual way I’d spoken in had confused him once more. “…Yes.”

I’d openly scrutinised him, then. Assessing. This man had access to documents and people that I would find very interesting. Looking over the Fire Nation archived documents I’d taken from Omashu and forgotten about for so long had been very interesting indeed. “So long as I get to look over what’s written down for the history books, I’m not opposed. I would also require several copies,” I didn’t think this would go beneath the Dai Li’s notice, but this was a great opportunity, “So long as I get something in return.”

“What is that? Beside the copies,” the last part he’d said as though he thought they should be enough.

Business. Negotiations here tended to go in such a way as bartering did at the market. Ask for more. “Access to the university’s library, unlimited – that includes what isn’t necessarily available to other students. And someone to bother about questions that I might have about what I read.”

“Done,” he’d surprised me with the easy acquiescence. Then again, many of the documents were probably rather old, for which one needed to know the specific dialect of the time to understand them. Little did he know that I was probably one of the few individuals who was fluent in enough of them to get by. Pakku had done a number on me.

He’d continued, “Is next Monday alright for you? I can organise a team of scribes until then and have the colleagues sit in. How detailed an account can you give?”

I’d shrugged. “Monday works. I was there for the battle, the strategizing and I briefly met the Avatar.”

His eyes had shone with a manic glint. “Monday, eleven o’clock, at the university gates. I’ll meet you there.”

Then he’d hurried off. And turned on his heel, almost running over another person behind him.

“Your name!” he’d exclaimed. My grin must have reminded him that I was rather shrewd.

“I am Professor Singh of Ba Sing Se University, Head of Historical Studies,” he’d introduced, tone pompous.

“Kai, son of Utakata of the Northern Watertribe,” I’d lied, thinking of the young, dead warrior I’d known long ago. “Until Monday, Professor.”

Now I sit at a large desk in the library, in a far-off alcove, private and full of nostalgia for another lifetime. I’d always wanted to know what was known about the Air Nomads and how they could have been wiped out so easily.


	25. Interlude: Iroh

IROH

.

Did you know that regret could just as well put a spring in your step as cripple?

.

Iroh learned this throughout his short years of marriage to his wife. An arranged one, from their very first meeting. Firelord Azulon was exacting about the lineage she brought along for the crown prince, the prince whose bending prowess should be furthered by the next generation. After all, there was a world to conquer, and they’d only just about gotten done with the first third. Were still cleaning up there, actually.

Ayana was beautiful, demure, just the right amount of capable and entirely unsuited to being a wife to a man whose first concern would always be whether his army was well enough fed, watered and trained.

In his later years, Iroh would think back on their time together and regret a great deal of things, but he would smile at the memory of their petty squabbles, the vindictive, almost hateful games of Pai Sho where they would destroy one another utterly if even one mistake was made. He would remember almost fondly how she repaid him his thoughtless slights with too-hot teas served with his most hated type of biscuit. Somehow, it never failed to incense him, as though the Weihrauch she lit burned at his goodwill to make it smell so pleasant.

He was not a patient man, then. He had not yet learnt the weight of personal loss.

The absence of his mother, who had died in childbirth for Ozai, could not hit him hard enough, since she was never one of his primary caretakers, and he’d been too young to remember her as a mother and feel any kind of loss. No, he’d been brash and impatient.

He’d been cunning, too. It made for a fine general in those times. The Earthkingdom was too vast to mobilise quickly enough against the rapid avalanche of fire the Dragon of the West would batter against their walls until they bled away to reveal…

Well, he didn’t care for the terror he wrought then, either.

He was vindictive. He was the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, he was the Dragon of the West and he did not realise what utter destruction was until Ba Sing Se.

But for that, he first had to learn what devotion was.

Destruction, devotion, devastation.

.

Did you know that hurt can bring joy?

.

Iroh learned this from raising his son. Like his own mother, Ayana died in childbirth.

This left Iroh with a screaming bundle of red skin and blue eyes that shat and pissed itself constantly. But it was his screaming bundle that shat and pissed itself and that made it…

He cared for it. His son. Lu Ten.

He watched him grow, laugh, play, crawl, walk. And when he went to war, he would leave his son behind with a heavy heart. There was no good option concerning his son then, but he made certain that as the boy grew, so would his means of defending himself.

Lu Ten was a bending prodigy that rivalled his own.

This allowed Iroh to bring him with him, not to fight on the front lines, but to councils of war, to planning, to the far outposts that would allow Lu Ten to observe the battle from a safe distance.

They were together, they were a family of warmongers, as the royal family should be.

They played. They learned together. They would have conquered Ba Sing Se together.

The Earthking’s personal guard were informed enough of who the young boy far behind enemy lines was. And when Iroh had defeated the Earthking…

They took revenge.

Simple as that.

He took revenge in turn, but it cost them victory.

It cost Iroh far more than the crown.

.

Did you know that you need it all to grow?

.

Iroh didn’t often doubt himself. He hadn’t thought that all he’d known could one day turn out to be so _wrong_. So utterly warped around, like passion’s middle wrought to shame.

He learned this when, after watching his son die, he left behind the Dragon of the West and wandered. He left behind the army. He left behind the crown. He left behind the proud, blind man he’d been and he…

Learned that kindness, when not a courtesy, could free his spirit. He learned that there was more to commoners than he’d been led to believe. He realised that… the Fire Nation got it all horribly, disastrously wrong and he had no means to change it. Not when he’d left behind the crown. Not when Ozai sat on that throne as Azulon grew more and more weak as his madness grew proportionally.

He learned to bend once more, when he looked for the old ways, the old that had been destroyed in the craze of destruction that warranted the slaughter of an entire people. He understood what bending could be, when it wasn’t a weapon.

He researched the waterbenders further, their healing powers seemed the antithesis to what he had been taught all his life. He learned of the Sunwarriors.

He was found worthy, when he knelt in awe of the last surviving dragons.

.

Did you know… tea leaves should only dry out once?

.

The White Lotus tile startles.

The poorly hidden amusement beneath blatant calculation makes for a sense of inevitability.

Iroh has never been able to resist temptation when it comes to his passions. He has learned caution, though, and it is with slight trepidation that he sits and joins the old, scraggly, oddly smelling man at his low table.

It is only later when he wakes in a beautiful garden within the walls of an ancient temple that he realises that suspicion does nothing if it isn’t coupled with the ability to detect poison in his tea. Or, as it were, sleeping medicine.

.

Did you know that fire lives only when it deems its fuel adequate?

.

He realised upon his return to the Fire Nation that fire could be dead.

And so he took up the task of breathing back life into the Nation that had burned the Air Nomads from this world. He re-asserted that kindness was life and violence could even lie in the words he spoke.

He set out to nudge the council to the wrong places. The wrong cities to take first. He set out to sabotage chains of information.

He did well.

He saw kindness in his nephew and cruelty in his niece.

He saw great potential.

So did his brother.

And a desperate Fire Nation made for a cruel Ozai. The nobles had begun to grumble, after all.

And what better example to them than the scene of the untouchable crown prince humiliated for his kindness. His so-called _weakness_.

Iroh saw. And turned away, towards a more manageable hurt.

Or so he thought.

.

Did you know… light is not enlightenment when it is the only candle in the darkness?

.

Heed your own council, Iroh often reminded himself on a ship in the wastes of the ocean. But patience was something learned and forgotten and learned again. And to teach it to a child, so hurt, so traumatised, so in need of stability that he would not allow close except for in rare moments in the dark of night after night terrors woke him screaming, was a challenge.

Iroh could appreciate those. Saw them as chances when the day was bright.

Recognised them as an opportunity for introspection, for self-scrutiny, for attempting to take the right actions.

But Zuko was so caught up in his own turmoil that any attempts to teach him self-reflection and the value of knowing when to say enough fell flat.

He worked hard. At being able to commit horrendous violence. Iroh attempted to temper this by speaking of honour. Of nobility, even when he knew no human was better than another. He could only hope that Zuko would live long enough to realise this by himself.

.

Did you know… fairness can leave a bitter taste on your tongue?


	26. Safety and Networking

There is not a soul in this city who doesn’t know the divide between upper and lower class.

The city rings are a picture of this as clear as a mountain spring’s water. There is unrest, of course. There is hunger and need, resentment and greed. All of which are simmering beneath the surface of that peaceful veneer that the Dai Li enforces.

It is hard to find a place to start forming a movement. It could be anywhere, but all walls have ears in Ba Sing Se. Within the impenetrable city every single building is penetrated by the Dai Li. The listeners. The ordinary citizens who have been conscripted into service. Hypnotised to protect the culture and tradition, which is basically code for keeping the power where it is: out of the hands of the people.

If any kind of change is to come from the people, as all meaningful, lasting change must, then the groundwork will have to be slow. Careful. And at the same time, the Dai Li must itself be infiltrated. At the very least it must be made vulnerable to precise attack at the right moment. The leader must be incapacitated at that moment. The most loyal as well. There must be procedures in place to break the hypnotisation. There must be procedures in place for a re-education. Of every single citizen. So that they may recognise and understand what a threat to freedom means. What solidarity is. What power is, when it is used to the benefit of human life in general, not a few, privileged, lucky ones.

Because there are so, so many refugees in this city who were never afforded the privilege of an education beyond that of cultivating the land and the world order of nobility that rules, peasants who are little better than mules. Where I see clear injustice, the structures and reasons for it, and a way to change things for the better, they have been taught all their lives that this is just the way it is.

This is how it’s supposed to be.

There are people in this world who are worth more than others, is what they are taught. By right of birth.

That is as wrong a thought as the assumption that because I have blue eyes, I am superior to brown-eyed people in every way. Superiority or worthiness have nothing to do with colour or place of birth. Unfortunately, in a feudal system like this, which relies on capital to maintain current hierarchies, place of birth does matter. And you can tell what that is by people’s skin and hands. By the way they carry themselves.

Values such as right and wrong have everything to do with how you value human life. Life in general, really.

I suspect that it is about control. Humans have the desire to control their lives, to feel as though they have power, as though there is something that makes them special, something meaningful. If your life form is better than others, then why should there not be something that also makes you better than others of your kind? If you are better than others, then is it not your right to do as you please and they must leave you to it, or even obey you?

That rests upon the faulty, unproven assumption that human life is more valuable than other kinds of life. And even if it were true, what could possibly be a criterion for making one person better than another? It has to be one that is true, that is always true, not just in some contexts or time periods.

Then there is the question of hierarchy. What is it that could determine the better-ness of any life form? In this world, there is life in every corner, an energy that lives within, another world that is connected with it within which there live creatures whose makeup and powers greatly differ from what is common in this world. Their existence cannot be doubted. They are as true as the stool I sit on, watching the people coming and going from the market.

I am waiting for news from Momo. She is the cousin of Hana, whose son is part of the school that I have integrated myself into. Momo has friends in the next quarter, which is controlled by another gang, who are also attempting to build something like a school there. While the schools will be rather obvious centres to watch for the Dai Li, they are necessary. They are also good places to establish trust with people who are still thinking within the boundaries that have been set for them. You have a place in society, a role to play: mother, father, husband, worker, wife, carer, merchant, peasant, underling. You are not to deviate from the norm, from what has already been done millions of times.

You are not to be extraordinary. You are not to be free. You are not to be just you. You are to play your role and play it well.

Do not bite the hand that feeds you. But what if you are the hand that does the feeding? What if you are the hand that has been bitten time and time again that it appears normal? That the scar tissue has become so dense that the bites no longer hurt, the infractions no longer sting, the chains sounding like chimes in the wind.

I have been part of the biters.

It is a truth. Even now, I live because others work on the fields. I live because there are people who provide the sustenance. People who deliver it. People who sell it. Recognising that that is a lot of work took me a while. Privilege.

Ah, there is Momo. She is not alone. Another woman is with her, older, with keen eyes. She walks with a cane. She has the look of someone who knows that they will be obeyed if they order something. While her clothing denotes her as another refugee, another soul who has lost home and family to this war, her posture is that of a person who believes that they are enough exactly as they are and always have been. It’s the kind of confidence that comes from knowing your place and liking it all your life. It’s like mine.

Now what is Momo doing with a woman like that? What does a woman like that want with me?

I stand to greet them.

“Good afternoon,” I say, inclining my head, “Would you like to join me?”

The table is far enough from windows and doors that at least no earthbenders will hear. And in public I can hardly create a dome of ice to keep the conversation private, so this will have to do.

“Good afternoon, Kai. May I introduce Ranra?”

Ranra inclines her head with grace. And because such things do matter, I greet her with the gesture that I would use back at home, in the North, to meet a foreigner who is formally introduced. A touch to my own gut, palm up, sweeping it towards her gently in an elliptical motion. And the recognition in her eyes is clear. “I’m sure I will be pleased to have made your acquaintance,” I add, letting them know of my curiosity as to her presence.

She laughs, more of a cackle, “You will be.”

They sit.

“How have you been?” I ask Momo, as we wait for the waiter to take and serve our orders.

“It’s been a few hard days, but nothing I can’t handle,” she replies. She is the kind of woman who is strong. Always strong and she could be breaking inside, but she is going on. Because if she stops, she will not recover her momentum. “And you? How are you finding your feet?”

“Ever steadier,” is what I say, and what I mean is that the city is a maze of intricate loyalties, webs of information, and I am slowly but surely understanding how information is distributed even between gangs. I am understanding the truces and battle fronts drawn in the shingles of the districts as conflicts are carried out in the night, always quick, always with techniques of assassination because anything that lasted longer would bring the Dai Li to the scene and no one wants that. So it is meetings in broad daylight in shops like this, at market stalls, in bars, that represent the diplomatic overtures any group might make. And if negotiations fail, if there is a dispute about territory, there will be corpses, cleaned away in the night. Several nights, and then one side will have conceded defeat – until it has recovered.

The waiter, a young man with dark shadows beneath his eyes takes our orders, barely recognising us as people. A side-effect of serving others is that they often do not see a person, and so one begins to dissociate from the situation, the way one is treated, views others as puppet-automatons themselves, because if one does not, the soul withers. More than it already has.

“I’ve been invited to offer my account of the invasion of the Northern Watertribe a the university,” I mention, curious to see Ranra’s reaction. And her eyes sharpen even more.

“Now that is an interesting opportunity,” she says. “To write history.”

She understands the impact this could have, the accounts of what we are capable of when facing the Fire Navy in our territories with sufficient preparation.

“Speaking of writing,” Hana says, “Ranra has offered to introduce some people as teachers.”

Which means that they can spread the word through the children. We are working on establishing a system of support and long-time education centres in order to better the lives of all people within Ba Sing Se, and shift power into the populations hands.

“That’s good news. I’d be interested in speaking with them. You never know what you might learn,” I say, and we all know it’s to vet their intentions.

“I’ll arrange a meeting, then,” Ranra says, “I own a tobacco shop. Why don’t we hold it there? Bring some friends.”

We trade smiles. I do like where this is going.

I wonder what she stands to gain, personally. Her shop would be at risk from the Dai Li. But she seems like the kind of person who likes to know exactly what’s going on.

.

I am cooking dinner when Mai and Circus Girl burst inside the flat like someone has lit a fire beneath their butts.

Peter is with me, looks up from his book about the Seiou period, a few hundred years ago and the founding of Ba Sing Se. It’s largely propaganda material, but it is always good to know what the rulers have to say about themselves, in order to subvert the message they want to imbue – even if it is mostly always along the same lines. He’s been quite enthusiastic about spreading knowledge. In order for him to do that, he must acquire some first. So he is improving his reading, soon his writing and sooner his skills of teaching, so that he may impart his wisdom.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask, when all the women do is catch their breath.

Circus Girl glares. Mai is the one who answers – as always. “There was a noble. He wanted- he wanted to take us to the upper ring. For _entertainment_. He just ordered his guards to take us!”

That catches Peter’s attention. “What.”

I don’t wait for Mai’s reply to her brother’s outrage, “Did they follow you?”

“No, we got away,” she replies. “I can’t believe- this would never have happened in-“

She cuts herself off, Peter scoffs and I send her a long, measuring look. She catches both, frowns and turns away. She knows it would have happened in the Fire Nation. Perhaps not so obviously. Perhaps more officially legitimised, perhaps through brothels or human trafficking. But it is everywhere. It doesn’t look as crass as this incident, either. Usually, a lone and often shy woman will be approached, her trust gained, her self-esteem bolstered – under very specific conditions. And soon, the affection and other support mechanisms provided to her will be slowly withdrawn, the human trafficker will ask a favour, something that she would not ordinarily do, except she desires the love and affection that was earlier provided. And once she has done what was asked, she will be rewarded with it. this pattern intensifies and continues. Of course, it can also look exactly like a slave-pen. But both are examples of human trafficking.

Mai and Circus Girl must have really stood out as exotic for a noble to decide to just take them. In broad daylight, no less.

“It’s good that you got away unhurt. Where was it that this happened?” I ask as I turn back to the stew I’m preparing.

“Fukujou, one of the roofed markets where the bars and brothels were just opening up. He must have been waiting for-“

At her renewed silence I look up to see their faces. Angry, frustrated.

“Until we have secured a better network here where people have more effective means of defending themselves from such things, you might want to think of ways that will prevent this from happening again.”

“What… do you suggest?” Circus Girl asks, suspicion in her voice, the scratch of it pronounced.

They’re already wearing relatively dirty clothing, even if it isn’t as threadbare as that of most of the population of the lower ring. Their faces are already framed by hair that is not as clean or luscious as it once was. If a noble tried to take them, looking as they do now, more physical veiling will not help much. Their pale skin stands out, their faces are clearly foreign, their features visually pleasing.

“We should think of deterrents that are visually obvious,” is all I say. I don’t want to be the one to suggest things like stuffing pillows in the fronts of their clothing to pretend pregnancy and so on. There’s other kinds of discrimination that come with being a young woman, pregnant and without the markers of marriage, like rings, hair insignia, necklaces, wrist of ankle bracelets, depending on which part of the country you married in. In the rare case of a marital tattoo, they are worn on the forearms. The nobility of Ba Sing Se wear hair ornaments and clan symbols. The lower ring is a mixture of all of the above.

“You. What are you suggesting?” Circus Girl asks.

“What would prevent a noble from attempting what he did today?”

Tense silence is the answer to my question. I stir the pot. They know what is needed, and as undignified as it may be to have to denote one’s status as ‘taken’ when one is not, when one is free and desires to remain that way, this is for their safety.

There are few things that are respected almost everywhere. Even nobles will be more hesitant to take someone’s wife if she’s not wearing rags. There might be trouble.

I cook in silence, Mai talks quietly with Peter and Circus Girl stares at me with hatred.

Some time later, Gorou, Ebisu, Fon and Dionu show up from their outing to the docks.

All of them note the tense atmosphere, but only Dionu asks. “What is it now?”

The exasperation in his voice would be amusing, if it weren’t as though he is treating us like we are immature children.

“There was an incident of attempted kidnapping with the intent of rape afterwards on Mai and Ty Lee,” I say, filling a bowl that Gorou is helpfully holding steady and handing to Fon. “We were thinking of visual deterrents for that sort of thing.”

“Short of facial scarring,” Dionu says, hanging up his jacket and letting down his hair, “You can either go with pregnancy or signs of marriage.”

Then he comes to me with his own bowl. “Thanks,” he murmurs, more out of habit than anything else, I think.

I hum an acknowledgement. Then I fill four more bowls, leave three by the pot for the women to take and Peter to have brought to him, the little prince. I settle by the window, on the wide ledge where I watch the street below.

It would be a slightly tense silence that we eat in, if Mai didn’t march over, hands on her hips, in the middle of the living room of our flat. “Who’ll be my husband, then?”

Fon chokes on his mouthful, Ebisu laughs, Gorou doesn’t give a reaction and Dionu just shakes his head like he’s done with all of us. It is this moment that Haruto chooses to stumble through the front door.

“What’s going on?”

Mai stares at him. “Not you.” She looks at each of us men in the room and lands on me. Her eyebrows rise demandingly.

Ah. Well. I suppose it does make sense for us to all pretend the charade, to give it some substance. I imagine Yue’s face at the notion of my betrothal to a Fire Nation noble. “Alright, I’ll have something for you tomorrow.”

Gorou chuckles, low, dark eyes dancing with sadistic mirth.

“How about you make betrothal bracelets for yourself and Ty Lee then, Gorou? Since you find pretend betrothals so amusing,” I ask, and his mouth firms into a harsh line to glare at me. But we only stare at each other for a few moments, before he begins to laugh again.

“Fine.”

“What?” Haruto asks. He makes his way over to the stew and ladles himself a bowl. Then he comes to sit by me to get an explanation.

“They were accosted in a market today, almost taken to the upper ring to be forced into prostitution. We decided that visible symbols of marriage would be better deterrents than facial scarring.”

“Ah.”

And that is that. Because we’re going to be here for a while yet. Until I have managed to set up that system, at least. Then we might move on and gather more forces with military experience. But that is at least a month and a half away. Hopefully, we can get someone into the Dai Li by then.

.

People die easily. It is a miracle that our bodies function, that we live. And yet, we do not treat one another as miracles, as ends of themselves. Too often, other people are means. But to what end?

Mine, in this case, is to make both the noble’s lives more difficult, and other people’s easier. That sort of thing isn’t done through bureaucracy. That’s meaningless menial busy-work that no one really needs. All it is is a means of control over people.

Keeping records for the sake of history, for the sake of spreading knowledge, I’m all for it. A filing system for that, alright. But a piece of more or less elegantly illustrated piece of paper to confirm my identity, which changes every day, little by little, so that I am no longer the man who left the Northern Watertribe is meant to assure others of my right to exist in a certain area? How absurd.

How easily forged, with a deft hand and the knowledge.

But with an invitation from Professor Singh, Head of the History department of Ba Sing Se, I don’t even need that. All I do is tell the guards my new name and they allow me to pass through the gates of Middle, and Upper Ring, into the university grounds. Lush grass and lovely flower gardens line the pathways of the park surround the impressive university building. Not as imposing as the palace, which can be viewed from the roof.

It’s been so long.

It is one of those paradoxes, that the subjugation of certain people was the means to this beautiful piece of architecture. Whoever designed it, and whoever built it weren’t paid enough, because otherwise there would be architects and handymen who live in the Upper Ring. Such appears to be the way of the world, the sad world order.

Well. Fuck that order.

But, I digress. I am not here to try to convince wealthy people to give most of what they have to people who struggle to survive.

I am here to educate some historians on the Invasion of the Northern Watertribe that I think should actually be called the Defeat of the Fire Navy. Hopefully, that was the end to their fleet.

It’s at the grand entrance of the university building that Singh waits for me. “Ah, there you are, hello, Kai, please follow me, the others are waiting.”

He hurries. Then slows to accommodate my more sedate pace as I take in my surroundings. Stone floors, tall walls, decorated ceilings, doorframes carved with creeping greenery. Pleasing to the eye. He huffs, but my wordless smile keeps him equally silent. His movements are jittery, excited. It’s been a while since I encountered anyone with such passion for gathering true stories. Or, as true as they can be, told from memory.

We pass through a small courtyard, a lovely, yet slightly bizarre fountain with a boar releasing water from its mouth, in the middle. The water gurgles pleasantly. On a bench sits an old woman, watching with sharp eyes as we pass through. Singh nods to her. Her mouth twitches in acknowledgement, but soon her eyes return to me. Scrutiny.

There is such a thing as the truth. But, most days, I cannot claim to remember the truth of events, only my perspective. And this perspective is as true as I perceived it.

“In here,” he takes my elbow, unaware of how my other hand automatically twitched to gather the water from the air. Well. He’s an academic. And a noble. I’m sure he feels he can touch anyone he wants however he wants whenever he wants.

We enter a sitting room, tastefully decorated. It seems to be a place used for conferences of small gatherings, that two scribes who are now present document. There are five others in the room. Two women, three men, all about Singh’s age: well over middle.

.

TRANSCRIPT OF KAI SON OF UTAKATA’S ACCOUNT OF THE INVASION OF THE NORTH POLE

_You know, it was actually quite exciting, in the beginning. I was sent out on patrols before, you see, and the skirmishes were bloody enough to not want that to happen in the city, but we always returned. Sometimes injured, but we have healers. I hadn’t actually seen anyone die before the invasion._

_When it was all over, the bay’s water had turned red with blood. The tiger seals were feasting the next morning._

_It all began with the arrival of the avatar. He’d come in on his flying bison, although no one got to see it fly until one of his companions took Princess Yue for a ride. He was as the rumours said, young and definitely an airbender. We welcomed him with a feast and he was introduced to Master Pakku, who would teach him waterbending. There was… a bit of a hiccup with that, when his other companion demanded to be instructed alongside him. The Northern Watertribe is a bit sexist that way: women heal and men learn to fight. She was having none of that._

_After multiple confrontations, Pakku did decide to teach her. Now, there will be more women who are granted the same privilege. The Northern Watertribe will no longer cripple itself. I’ll be curious to see what has changed when I return._

_The avatar and her both then joined the efforts to put on a bit of a show for the Full Moon Ceremony. Thirty benders would bend in tandem to create a great wall that would sweep through the bay like it hasn’t been done since the tribes came together to build the city, centuries ago. And that would have been that, if on aforementioned ride on the flying bison, Princess Yue and her new friend hadn’t seen the Fire Navy’s approach. Hundreds of ships._

_There was a war council to prepare. One of the patrols was late in returning home._

_It was decided that the bay would be our battleground, not the city. Waterbenders would fight there, aided by the warriors. All across it, beneath the waves, traps were laid to sink the Fire Navy’s ships. And to stop the first wave of attacks, the benders raised that wall and froze it._

_Another unit was sent out beneath the waves, to assess the numbers of ships and the troops on them. They sunk a few. Kimondo rhinos and thousands of soldiers._

_We were in for a treat._

_But we knew to use our home to our advantage. And so we prepared._

_It went in our favour, at first. Fighting in shifts to conserve energy and use the full moon to our advantage. The wall served its purpose, as did the next that was erected. But inevitably, some of the ships made it into the city. That was expected, and the citizens had been evacuated._

_What wasn’t expected was that the commander of that fleet had planned to assassinate the spirit of the moon, whose physical body resides in that city. Zhao was killed by a unit that had infiltrated his ranks using the uniforms the scouts had brought back with them._

_But he had sent someone else ahead. And the moon spirit was killed._

_If there hadn’t been so many warriors in the bay, defending the waterbenders, they would all be dead._

_Not all was lost. Princess Yue, whose life was saved by that same spirit when she was an infant, sacrificed her life for that of the moon. She returned power to the waterbenders and what followed was a worse slaughter than before. The avatar had gone into the avatar state, crushing the remaining navy._

_I never want to see anything like it again._

_That much power… no one should have it. He saved us. But spirits are not human, they have no need for morality as we do. They only care for balance. And balance was restored – cruelly._

This was the initial telling of the story. What had followed were questions and some vague answers. Kai, the man whom Professor Singh had invited, revealed nothing of detail to the assembled scholars that would give away the exact defensive capabilities of the Northern Watertribe.

What he did go into detail on was the Avatar State. What it looked like. How powerful it was.

It sounded as legend.

It was not.

.

MAI

"Vulnerability makes you a target," he says to her, as he packs the pipe he found in the captain's chest with practised motions. It's telling that he's done this often. Telling of his drive to commit himself emotionally, only to calm himself and enjoy a good pipe. "Especially in a household whose patriarch favours the strong."

He glances at her before lighting the pipe, and once more she feels pinned beneath that cold, blue gaze. It's the kind of colour that can turn warm with affection that he doesn't hold for her, but her brother.

"I know," she replies quietly, "But I don't think strength lies in the ability to deceive and lie."

He huffs out a laugh, and with it puffs of smoke. He doesn't cough. "No. A convincing liar can believe his own words for as long as necessary. A good liar has a perfect recollection of who he told what. An honest person must always take into consideration the hurt they expose themselves to by speaking truthfully."

She remains silent, and feels that that is as telling to him as a verbal reply.

"And a calculating person recognises another easily," an odd thing to say, revealing himself like that. But Mai thinks she understands him better now. He cares for as long and deeply as he can, without ending up devoted. He cares for as long as what he shares won’t be used against him. But he cares.

She understands that he is not certain of who to trust, but places enough in her to show that he will not watch her. Instead, he follows Ty Lee. She is no longer certain of whether it is because he distrusts her, or because he desires to keep her safe. She cannot tell whether he knows the difference at all.

“And yet,” he muses, “Vulnerability is what is necessary to forge genuine human connections. And what is life about, if not connection?”

He fishes a necklace from his pocket. The pipe in one hand, he offers it to her with a glint in his eyes that she can’t decide is amused or mocking. She hates that this is necessary. She wishes there were another way. But she hates having to flee, having to defend herself and her bodily integrity. She hates this. She knows that if she wore a noble’s clothes this would never-

It doesn’t matter. She can’t return. She doesn’t want to, with Azula…

She takes the necklace. The band is soft, sturdy material. The carved symbol is lovely, she can admit. It will be the first piece of jewellery she’s worn since leaving Omashu in turmoil.

“The symbol has a meaning,” Kaito says, watching her. “For what I would hope for in our partnership. I chose the ship because that is how we worked together, at sea. It is also our means of leaving this city when the time is right and you still travel with me.”

It’s a symbol of their relationship, however hostile it may be. It’s also a symbol of his plans to leave, of the soon-to-be lack of necessity for this.

Mai fastens the necklace around her throat. It is a gentle reminder. It does not choke. But it sits there and it makes her think that it’s appropriate for her situation. She could leave on her own. With Ty Lee. They could make their own way. But Kaito offers stability, and a measure of safety. He offers help in return for hers.

She can admit that it is nice to follow another’s lead, to know that he has a plan. Because she has seen what the war has wrought.

She has seen. And it does not leave her cold.

Her calm is gone.

It always was a thin veneer.

.

IROH

It is lovely to see Zuko so… normal. Stunned by a girl. A young woman with a child in her arms, with the looks of a Fire Nation native. She looks familiar, and the way Zuko is looking at her… they know each other.

He watches them as they go to sit at one of the tables, Kaito moving towards Iroh, probably to speak with him about the schools. “Good evening,” Iroh greets the young waterbender, but his eyes remain on the pair in the corner.

“Evening, Mushi. Do you have a few minutes?” Kaito asks, seating himself in a chair just beside the counter where Iroh waits for customers who won’t trickle in until they have properly opened up shop.

Zuko and the young woman are clearly already deeply immersed in conversation.

“Yes, Kai, for you always,” Iroh finally tears his eyes away, only to look back as a shimmer of blue on the woman’s neck catches his attention. Slowly he looks back at Kaito. “That is a betrothal necklace your companion wears, is it not?”

The young man’s half-lidded stare is amused. “I’m sure we’ll be breaking off our fake engagement soon,” he huffs a low laugh. “That is, so long as your nephew provides her with an alternative trinket that would be recognised as promises exchanged. There have been attempts to take her and her friend to the upper ring for… entertainment.”

Iroh is both relieved for Zuko and reviled by the revelation. For something like that to be necessary protection… ah. But it appears to be the way of the world that the poor and defenceless are exploited, while the rich and powerful take as they please. He should know. He was one of them once.

He busies himself with a pot of tea. “What did you want to speak with me about?”

“Ranra says we’re ready to start an evening school for adults or adolescents in a few days,” he produces some leaflets. “I’m sure you know some people who would benefit from that sort of thing.”

Iroh slips them into his own tunic. “I do.”

He meets an intent stare, something Kaito rarely does. After a few moments, the man takes another scrap of paper from his sleeve. “There is something else. Meet me there tomorrow at sunrise.”

Iroh takes the paper and watches the young waterbender rise from his seat, give him a nod and walk towards the door. The young woman notices and makes to stand. He waves her off. “I can manage the shopping on my own. Stay.”

She frowns, then sends him a half-suspicious, half-grateful smile. “Don’t buy fish tonight.”

He laughs and with a final wave, he’s gone.

She slumps in her seat, “He’s going to buy all the fish…”

Iroh chuckles.

“Mai,” he hears Zuko say, “How do you and he..?”

“Kaito is- we met in Omashu. He,” she laughs, an incredulous note to it, “He kidnapped Azula and Peter, I mean Tom-Tom here and-“

“What.”

“It’s true! She had lost some of her memories, thought she was ten years old, and he kidnapped her. Ty Lee and I followed them, tracked them down, but just as we had them cornered, pirates showed up and took all of us prisoner. Agni, it was awful. But we broke loose, with Kaito’s help and Azula regained her memories. But we’d- we’d had a disagreement about Tom-Tom and when we next made port to turn in the pirates, she and Ty Lee brought back my uncle! And there was a fight, but- Let’s just say, Azula named us traitors and we’re wanted in Fire Nation territories now,” she explains without fully explaining at all.

Iroh makes his way over with tea. He wants to hear this. In full detail.

.

[Thank you all for your reviews. I am unable to reply to all of them. I hope you are well and healthy.]


	27. School

The school and with it the network that I am hoping to build are coming along. What is needed now is to establish community centres and safe spaces for people to come together to plan, talk, and form an effective movement. Those spaces need to be guarded, which is why I’m keeping a lookout for young, strong people who could fit in with the crowds and still defend places from the Dai Li and other undesirables. At the very least, they need to be capable of keeping a lookout and warning the people in the meeting if the Dai Li arrives to make trouble.

The reason why infiltration is at this point near impossible is because the Dai Li itself recruits. You do not apply, as you might for a job with the City Guard, and you wouldn’t know where. They don’t have something as mundane as police boxes. They have offices at the train stations and regular patrols. They are more active during the night than the day.

My suspicion is that they recruit harmless friendly-looking people and then brainwash them. Because we never entered the city by way of official gates, and instead through the harbour and trade we never got the greeting by the Ba Sing Se official that Iroh told me about. Her name was Ju Di. Daito, another refugee and student at the adult evening school we got going with Ranra’s help, spoke of Ju Di as well. But their descriptions did not match. Two Ju Di are not a coincidence.

They addressed the new arrivals as a whole when they got off the train from the main gate. Iroh paraphrased that they were welcomed to report any suspicious activity or crime to the Dai Li offices or passing patrols.

We might have to capture one of those Ju Di women and figure out how to break their brainwashing. Or how to follow them. There must be so much documentation that would help us in Dai Li headquarters.

I’ve asked Gorou to keep an eye out for women like that, to see if they have established a pattern. To see if they live normally among the population or if they go somewhere at night to return in the mornings. Dionu as well, and he agreed after wrangling a promise from me to let him and some of his people come with us when we infiltrate the Dai Li base. His second-in-command looked positively bloodthirsty when he told her that.

He also offered to guard the meetings, but that is not what I hope the movement will be. A place that is protected by a specific gang is not an encouraging one. He knows that what I want for the people is ultimately going to effect his recruitment strategies in Ba Sing Se. If we manage to make a better education as common as I hope it will be, there will be fewer people desperate enough to do grunt work for a gang.

So I’m once again at the market, manning the small booth with the watertribe trinkets Haruto helped me carve. He’s on the stool in the corner, making a fiddly piece for a betrothal necklace, even if those have to be made by the one who proposes personally.

A few people stop to look, fewer of them actually touch, and only a young man fingers a delicately beaded woven leather bracelet. He says nothing, but stares at it for a long time, face solemn. It appears to be his default expression beneath the wide brim of his straw hat. He’s more of a teenager, I think as I look at him more closely.

I wait for him to make up his mind. He’s not the type to be swayed to buy something by a little chatter about the special meaning behind the beads on this particular bracelet.

Before he can, a small, wild-haired girl appears at his elbow. “Longshot! What’s taking you so long? Jet’s waiting.”

Then she looks at the bracelet, “Hey, that looks like something Katara might have worn.”

That more than their strange clothing – which is more armour than daywear – catches my attention. And the name, Longshot. They ought to be more careful. “Katara? You don’t mean Katara of the Southern Watertribe?”

“You know her?” she asks, “Are you from her tribe?”

“Oh, no, not from her tribe. We met in the North. That’s where I’m from. When and where did you meet her? I haven’t seen her, Sokka or Aang since Omashu was liberated,” there, throw them a bone that is bound to make them curious.

An even more wild-haired teenager shoulders his way through the crowd. This must be Jet. He’s carrying swords beneath that cloak.

“Well, then you’ve seen them more recently than we have! How are they doing?” she asks, just as he arrives.

I look at them, young, scrappy, wild. They could be what I am looking for. Then I lean forwards. “Seems like we have a few stories to share. Why don’t we go get some tea and sit down? There’s a good and cheap teahouse down on Fisson Street.”

“Oh! Yes, that’d be nice. What do you think, Longshot?” then she turns to the new arrival, “Jet, he knows Katara, Sokka and Aang!”

I turn to Haruto, but note Jet’s shock. “Haruto, will you be alright for the afternoon?”

“Hm? Yeah sure,” he drags his stool to the front and continues to carve.

I duck around the flaps of the stall and join the trio on the street. “Keep it,” I tell Longshot, “Longshot, was it? Jet, and…?”

“Smellerbee,” she answers, ignoring a scowling Jet.

“My name is Kaito.”

“Kaito,” Haruto says from the stall, finally looking up from his work for the first time all day, “Don’t forget Ty Lee’s making dinner tonight. We’ll need fresh yoghurt she always cooks to kill the rest of us with spice.”

“I’ll pick some up,” I assure him.

We make our way from the market down to Fisson Street. Iroh and Zuko work there and I’m sure to get a little discount.

“So you like, moved here?” Smellerbee asks. “Was he your brother? He doesn’t really look like you.”

My skin is darker than Haruto’s and where I’m obviously Watertribe, since no Earthkingdom-native I’ve met has blue eyes, he looks like any refugee around these parts.

“We’re staying here for a couple more weeks. But it’s really more of a stop before we get moving again. There are just a few things I want to accomplish here before we move back on. And no, Haruto’s not my brother. We just travel and live together with a few others.”

“What do you want to get done here?” Jet asks. “Don’t you want to keep building a life here?”

That’s probably what they’re doing, then.

“Various things. At the moment, I’m helping to build a few schools in the lower ring,” I say and push open the door to the teahouse.

“Kai! Good to see you!” Iroh, or Mushi, comes to guide us to a table. “I see you brought friends, lovely. I’m afraid Lee and Mai are out, but I’m sure you can talk to them if you stay a while.”

We sit, Jet tense as a bowstring. “Oh good,” I say, “We’ll have whatever’s on offer today.”

“I’ll be right back, though I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat we’re rather busy today,” Iroh bustles, and it’s true, but not enough that he couldn’t stay. Probably wants to give us some privacy. We sit on the benches. Jet and me, Smellerbee opposite and Longshot next to her.

“Right,” I say to my tablemates, “I met Katara, Sokka and Aang in the City of the Northern Watertribe a few months ago. Katara and Aang were going to learn waterbending from Master Pakku. Did you know that the North doesn’t train women to bend other than to heal? Well, Katara and Aang made such a ruckus, that Pakku changed his mind. I can tell you that’s no small feat. I’m expecting to see many changes when I return.”

“Were you there, during the siege?” Smellerbee blurts. And where I thought Singh was rude, she immediately realises her insensitivity once I pause a bit longer than usual before answering. She looks ready to apologise.

“Yes. I gave my account of it to the university a few days ago. I have written copies. If you like, you could come by the adult education centre on Lantern Square. We keep one there, for people to read,” I watch their faces. Even mostly expressionless Longshot seems curious. “Some of the courses learning to write and read are working on making copies.”

“What, like for free?” Jet asks.

“Of course. Some of the funds for it are from the city, some are from the university, and we have also secured some benefactors among the nobility. None of them have any say in what is taught or who. Though they do get to hang up recruitment posters there, with their specific demands of the skills that are necessary for hire. Most of which can be acquired in the school,” I explain. I don’t add that it’s only a few days old. But already we have filled the rooms to the brim with people wanting to learn. “We teach courses on reading, articulation, history, accounting and some of the basics of trade and economics.”

Which is all code for educating the people on their situation, the system and how to intervene and change. I’m also trying to get funds for a printing press on the down-low, so the Dai Li doesn’t take it away and uses it for more propaganda.

“Wow,” Smellerbee says. “All for free?”

“Yes. If you come by and look at the schedule I’m sure you’ll find something that interests you. We’re grateful for any contributions, so whatever you want to pass on, we’d be happy to arrange space and time for that,” I say, phrasing it like it’s a proper institution already. It might give the wrong impression, but people are easier to motivate if they think a movement has already gotten started.

Iroh arrives with our tea. Jet eyes him warily. I don’t see why. Iroh looks far more harmless than I do.

“Thank you, Mushi,” I say, “I was just telling these guys about our new school.”

He smiles his wide, kind smile. “Oh yes, it is wonderful! I just went to a class that teaches Ba Sing Se’s history last night. It was most enlightening.”

“Happy to hear it,” I say. “Ranra teaches that one, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, with the help of Hana.”

“I’ll have to stop by next week.”

“They are going to speak about the catacombs that were the reason for Ba Sing Se’s initial wealth. I’m quite curious to hear about them,” and he winks. He knows exactly that I helped craft the lesson plan – and why. That’s how the Dai Li still get around when they’re not using the trains. I got my hands on a map in the university library, and I made a copy. One of the parts of the lesson for calligraphy and cartography are going to be to copy it down. It’s always good to circulate that kind of thing. Even if the Dai Li finds out, there will be copies.

He steps away to greet new customers.

“That’s really interesting,” Smellerbee comments. She sounds like she’s waiting for the catch. That won’t come until much later, if they’re open to joining the network.

“Like I said, it’s free. Come if you have time. Help if you want,” I pour us all the tea. “But you were going to tell me abut how you met Katara, Sokka and Aang.”

“Thanks,” she says, drawing her cup close. “So, we met them near a town called Gao Ling. The Fire Nation occupies it, so we were living in a camp outside, surviving. Well. Some Fire Nation soldiers attacked Katara, Sokka and Aang. We stepped in to help. That’s how we met.”

“Mmh,” I say, eyeing them one by one. “I see.”

“What do you see?” Jet bites out, hostile. He’s not touching his cup. Shame.

I give him a look. “Those swords aren’t very well concealed, you know,” I sip my tea. It’s good as always. “What made you decide to come to Ba Sing Se?”

“The Fire Nation forced us to! What else could it be?” he says, loudly.

“Economic reasons. Disease, natural disaster, wanting a taste of the life in the largest city of the Earthkingdom? There are many reasons why people move. The war is the most common one, these days, of course. It’s why I’m here, too. It’s just that my home still stands.”

“Right,” he says, averting his gaze and glaring at the cup instead.

That’s when Mai and Zuko enter the teashop. They spot me right away and Mai comes over to hand off Peter to me, as she always does when she has the chance. For some reason, he’s out cold. He’s sleeping a lot lately. Must be all the walking he’s been doing. “Shirking off the work on Haruto again, Kaito?” she accuses even as she sits down at our table, nudging me further towards Jet on the bench.

“You know me, lazy to a fault,” I say, adjusting Peter on my lap so he’s comfy. “Mai, meet Smellerbee, Longshot and Jet. You guys, this is Mai and Peter. Lee, come sit. Unless you have to work?”

Zuko sends me an uncomfortable glare. Iroh pushes him towards us with a friendly smile and some well-meaning words about making new friends. Zuko looks grumpy and embarrassed after that.

“Lee, it’s good to see you again,” Smellerbee greets him before turning back, “We met on the ferry here. So, are you like, engaged?” she asks, eyeing Mai and me. And Peter.

I laugh, choosing to let Mai answer that one for us. Met on the ferry, huh? Something must have happened, if Jet isn’t normally this hostile. Which he wasn’t before we entered the teashop.

“Not really,” she says, and it’s vague, but clear enough when she takes Zuko’s hand on the tabletop. He blushes with discomfort at the scrutiny it brings.

Jet glares at all of us.

“I was just telling them about the school,” I explain.

“Ah. Yes. I need your help on drawing up those lesson plans on the Fire Nation’s history and indoctrination,” she says it nonchalantly. She pretends not to notice the three new acquaintances gaping as she waves two fingers at Mushi while gesturing at our teapot.

“What?” Jet spits out finally.

“Oh, Mai, Lee and Mushi are Fire Nation refugees. They can’t go back because they’ve been outlawed for helping me,” I explain to them. It may have only been Mai, but Iroh doesn’t want to return. Zuko… well. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to talk to him one-on-one at this rate. “So Mai has agreed to teach about the Fire Nation and its history and indoctrination that happens from an early age. You see, every child in the Fire Nation that isn’t from the ‘colonies’ as they call conquered and occupied Earthkingdom territories, goes to school and receives a basic education. Part of it is of course indoctrination. Things like praising the Fire Lord and glorifying the war are daily occurrences.”

Zuko’s glare is heated. We don’t see eye to eye on everything. But we don’t fight because Mai is clearly willing to go along with my request. It’s that favour I’m cashing in for healing Ty Lee back in Omashu. Which I’m not sure she’s told him about. If she hasn’t, he’s probably feeling very conflicted right about now.

Mushi brings two more cups and a fresh pot of tea. He checks that all guests are satisfied, then he pulls up a chair and provides his own teacup from his sleeve.

I ignore the awkward silence. “Ah, Mushi, I wanted to ask, how are the textbooklets coming along? Do you need more helping hands?”

“We could always use more help, as you know. But I have already secured some of our younger pupils with legible handwriting for helping with those,” he explains.

“Good. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” he says, and I believe him.

I turn back to our new acquaintances. “Ah, sorry. You came here to hear about friends and I keep going on about school… So Katara is as good as a bending Master now, and Aang has incredible talent picking it up. The next time I see Aang, I’d like to get him to tell us about life at the airtemple. That’s the sort of knowledge that shouldn’t be lost.”

Smellerbee nods, as does Longshot. Jet appears to be trying to get a grip on his upturned worldview. Or something. He looks like he’s in that particular state of constipation.

“I also persuaded Professor Singh to come around in two days to teach advanced old language courses. If there’s someone particularly talented, he said he’d consider taking them to the university library. So if any of you are into that kind of thing, show up. You might get a scholarship at Ba Sing Se Uni out of it.”

Somehow this stuns them all over again.

“Here, I still have some of the original pamphlets. The address is on it,” Iroh says and provides three neatly folded up pamphlets.

They take them. Stare at them. None of their eyes look like they are scanning the paper.

Oh. Can they. Can they read? Well. Then they should definitely come to the school. The reading and writing course is one we offer every day. The numbers of analphabetic people in the lower ring is very high.

“So anyway, Kaito,” Mai says, “Gorou mentioned he wanted to talk to you. Dionu had some kind of news he wanted to share. You should talk to him soon.”

“Urgent? Or can it wait until dinner?”

“Not sure. Gorou seemed on edge.”

So yes. I frown. “Well. This cuts our chat short, then. How about we talk the day after tomorrow? We can meet at the school, I’ll be there to talk to Singh about getting an advanced student from the university to help with the accounting classes.”

“Don’t forget to mention that you are going to teach Watertribe history and speak about the invasion. There are still too many rumours circulating about the night the moon turned red,” Iroh adds.

Yeah. I like to forget about that. But I managed to live through an accounting of it once, I can do it again, in front of a more forgiving audience that doesn’t ask such pointed questions about the exact numbers of ships and benders etc. “Right. There’s that. So. I’ll see you guys there.”

I hand Peter back to Mai and climb off the bench, glad that I keep up exercise so that my body is flexible and strong enough to easily land lift me over the backrest. With a little force, I land next to Iroh. I can feel Jet’s eyes on me more than ever.

“Kaito, no fish tonight, please,” Mai says. It’s our little good-bye ritual now. Even if she knows it’s not my turn to make dinner.

“We’ll see.”

She huffs.

.

I make my way down to the train station. Gorou will spot me and lead me to a secure location to talk before we go to Dionu.

And true to this pattern, he finds me. He’s more than on edge. He’s positively anxious, if I’m reading the shifty eyes, the clenching fists and the set shoulders right. He keeps his feet loose and easily set in case of an attack.

In between one house and the next, he tugs me into a shadow.

“Dionu got news from Tananga,” he says, low and serious, “The Fire Nation is sending some kind of huge, long, metal contraption directly at Ba Sing Se. It just tears through forests and even hills. It just drills through them, if they’re large enough. No one has tried to stop it yet, but it’s clear where it’s headed.”

Oh. I’d forgotten about that.

A drill headed for the walls of Ba Sing Se.

“Dionu has more exact information?” I ask.

Gorou doesn’t bother answering, just leads the way towards Dionu’s Ba Sing Se headquarters.

We need to know where exactly it will hit. We need to tip off some of the City Guard. And we need to put together a team to get outside city walls in order to observe and perhaps even intervene, if an opportunity presents itself.

Dionu’s face is grim as he meets us outside the bakery. He leads us inside wordlessly. Beyond the smell of the bread, the clouds of flour, he leads us through the small office into the secret brewery and betting office. And beyond that, into the office where he does his own business. A woman is already inside, his second in command here. Her arms are crossed as she looks at us, unhappy with our involvement, as always.

“Yranna,” I greet, not expecting her nod in return. Seems like she’s warming up to me.

Dionu doesn’t bother with the civilities. He points at the map of Ba Sing Se on his wall, that is riddled with small markers of territory. “The drill will hit the wall here. That’s more Pah-territory than ours, but close enough. Arrival should be around mid-morning tomorrow. Yranna’s already tipped off the city guard, made it seem like an official courier’s message from the Mashiro noble family, since it’s their lands it’s cutting across now. I’ve also put together a team that can get you and a few others out and stay hidden. We’re gathering supplies and putting together some explosion kits now.”

Ah. Dionu is so competent it makes my knees weak sometimes. With Yranna, they make the most efficient leaders of a gang I’ve met so far.

“Lovely. Gorou?”

“Fon and I are coming,” he says. “He’s on his way.”

“Good. Dionu, do you have someone who can tell Haruto that he’s going to have to get the yoghurt instead of me?”

He grunts, opens his office door and hollers, “Jeon! Go tell Haruto at the Watertribe Stall that he’s going to buy yoghurt tonight! And Kaito, Gorou, Fon, Ebisu and I aren’t coming to dinner!”

“Yessir!” Jeon hurries out.

“Itaka! How long till you have the kits ready?”

“Half an hour, Sir!”

“Good! I’m also coming,” he says, once he’s slammed the door back closed.

“Dionu,” Yranna begins, but she stops herself at his glare.

He runs a stressed hand over his head. “I’m no good waiting around, so I’m going. You don’t need me here anyway.”

She frowns.

He turns to look at me. “Do you have some ideas?”

My brows rise. “You seem to have plenty,” I say, but I sit down at one of the chairs, take a small chalkboard and begin to sketch. They wait with varying degrees of patience.

“The drill, if it’s to get through the wall, needs to have some means of disposing of the rubble it creates by drilling. So there have to be openings. My guess is that they’re here,” I point at the drawing of a long tube, marking the places by erasing the chalk there.

“It’s going to be powered somehow,” I continue, “Either a motor engine or, more likely a steam engine. They haven’t had time to locate enough oil reserves yet to transport enough of it to refuel all the way to Ba Sing Se. Coal is easily made if they have competent firebenders. And if it’s steam, I can do a lot of damage. I just need to get to the engine rooms. And if we’re there anyway, we can find the best places for those explosives your people are rigging together.”

“There’ll be a command centre and an army inside,” Yranna says. “What about if they notice that you’re infiltrating?”

“Well. That’s what Gorou’s for,” I say, pointing at him with my chalk. We’ve sparred in between, and both improved our aim with our bending. Those disks of his are a mean piece of work. We’ve managed to hone them into having sharp edges. He could easily cut off someone’s head with them now. And we tested armour’s endurance against them. If he manages to spin them quickly enough, he slices through.

“And me,” Dionu says. He’s been training with us. He doesn’t have tattoos like Gorou, but he’s a mean piece of work as a bender. He also has some good aim with similar disks, but he carries them in pouches in his belt.

Yranna scowls, but nods. “I’m coming with you.”

Dionu looks ready to protest, but I cut in. They can fight for hours when they get started. “So do you have anyone who can make suggestions for the defensive strategy the wall border can employ?”

He frowns. Yranna answers. “Yes.”

“I was thinking, since it’s a tube, its surface is going to be hard to penetrate. What would work best would be a concerted effort to set the drill off of its intended trajectory. Turn the front away from the wall. It would buy time, if nothing else. They’d also have to defend against Fire Nation troops. Tanks and rhinos and benders, I imagine. I’m not up to date with Fire Nation Army troops.”

“I’ll pass it on. Anything else?”

“It’s not going to be a single piece of metal. It’ll be divided into sections. We might be able to blast it apart at the seams. It will also have to have something like, ah, feet that dig into the ground, so that the drill, when it encounters resistance can push through. If possible, they should be damaged or destroyed entirely.”

She nods in a do-go-on fashion.

“My guess is that they have some way of repairing, relatively quickly if it comes to it. So if something happens, like the City Guards failing, then we need to make sure this thing stays broken. How much power is in those explosives?”

“Enough to blast a war tank to pieces.”

Oh shit.

“Ah. How many are we taking?”

“Five.”

“Okay. How do they work? Do they have fuses?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. We should split into three groups as soon as we find the openings. Which are probably on the underside, now that I think of it. Two on either end, with explosives, and one in the middle where I’m guessing they put the command centre. If I remember correctly, they have means of transferring commands through the metal pipes, so they can be heard from all over the drill. We should bring cloth balls to muffle them, if we can. That was really hard to circumvent during the invasion if we wanted to sink a ship. They can communicate a leak very quickly and rescue themselves.”

Dionu yanks the door back open. “Make fifty cloth balls the size of your fists! We have enough scraps. If you need more, get tear apart sacks of flour and fill it into some of the empty barrels!”

“Yessir!”

So efficient.

“What do you typically do when a firebender extinguishes the spark that travels along the fuse of the explosives?”

“Kill them and try again,” Yranna says.

Right.

“What about archers? Do you have good archers?”

Dionu yanks the door open. “Get me Thera and her sister! I don’t care if she’s drunk!” he closes it again. “They’re good with the crossbows,” he explains. They have crossbows. Yakuza are crazy.

“Even better,” I say and go back to my drawing. I will never be an artist.

“So that team you put together. Who’s on it?” Gorou asks, seeing as I’m back to my own thoughts.

.

We travel through a tunnel that is freshly made by two of our team, who are there precisely for transport. They will also be responsible for getting us back inside the city.

“There’s a disturbance to our left,” Dionu says, a hand on the dirt. “Feels like someone else is digging a tunnel. It can’t be the Dai Li. They use the catacombs. Thanks for the plans, by the way.”

“No problem,” I say. “So who is that?”

“My guess is that it’s the Pah. Latih isn’t the type to not know what’s coming and not prepare.”

“We should meet them,” Yranna says. “The Pah can be reasoned with. We can use all the help we can get. It’d be more dangerous without knowing what they’re going to do.”

“Fon, Keigo,” Dionu commands, and off they are, splitting off in another fresh tunnel while we wait in our position. Our transport with the blind mule and its cart with the heavily polstered explosives pauses also, a few paces ahead of us. We carry only small torches, but it’s best to remain far away from them with fire.

We can’t hear much, but Fon pauses to knock on the other tunneller’s wall before breaking through. Polite. “Hey! Who’re you?”

“Ah, it’s Dionu’s men,” a woman says. “You’re also on your way to that Fire Nation attack site, too?”

“Yes,” Fon says, “Boss wants to join forces.”

“Mmh. Alright. We’ll talk on the way.”

And so, our team of twelve gains five more benders and six more fighters with swords, knives and spears. Three of them carry shields that look like they could take a blast of fire or two. This seems more and more like it could actually work.

“Dionu,” a woman with dark skin and shorn hair says as her people filter into our tunnel. “Long time. Yranna, you look lovely as ever.”

“Latih,” Yranna greets, and her voice is warmer than I’ve ever heard it.

“So what’s your plan? We were going to see what the wall guards were doing. We have no idea what that thing looks like other than a drill,” the two women begin walking side by side and our group moves along again.

I shoot Gorou a look and he shrugs. Nothing new, then. We move along.

Yranna answers her. “We got some idea of how it must work. That tall one there is a waterbender. He’s going to sabotage the steam engine. We have explosives and we’re going to set them at points where it’ll damage the drill permanently. We got cloth balls to stuff those communication pipes with that the Fire Nation uses. We got word to the City Guards of how it must work, how to turn the thing away from the wall, if they can, and destroy the things that dig into the ground to give the drill leverage.”

“You know how competent _they_ are,” Latih says derisively. “Well. We’re going to see if we can’t protect those idiots while they do as they’re told.”

Seems like we’ve got a good plan. This seems actually doable.

How strange, that the gangs are protecting the city.

But they’ve got lucrative businesses and a working system set up. Why wouldn’t they defend something so profitable from the Fire Nation? They crack down hard on all illegal activities. While the Dai Li does the same, the gangs know how to avoid them. Organised crime survives in Fire Nation territory only if there’s a corrupt officer somewhere. Ba Sing Se would be wiped out, cleaned first. Then the criminals could set up shop again, under the new regime. That sort of survival costs money and resources.

It’s easier and more profitable to prevent it.

No one trusts the City Guard to do their job, apparently. Not when they’re faced with a new kind of threat.

.

We rest in a newly hollowed-out hill with multiple airshafts just outside of the great wall. Several hours remain until the drill is expected to arrive. It’s a good thing Yranna, Dionu and Latih remembered to bring food and water for everyone.

Dionu makes us sand beds to rest on while Yranna and Latih catch up in low voices that don’t carry this far. Someone also makes a toilet-box with proper walls to the ceiling for privacy. Gotta love practical earthbenders.

I’m reminded of the time we camped out with the resistance beneath Omashu. I decide to rest and gather some energy for the upcoming fight.

.

With sunrise comes a guard change, and I decide to spend some time in meditation before stretching properly. I’m going to get a workout today.

Gorou joins me. He does that sometimes, in the flat’s living room, before we both go out to get our stuff done for the day. Or we train. Or spar with Dionu and sometimes Fon. It’s good practise against earthbenders. Neither Mai nor Ty Lee ever join us, but we teach Haruto some basics.

I don’t usually accomplish much with meditation. But it’s a good way to start the day. Breathing, feeling, thinking of nothing for once.

This time, I can’t calm my thoughts properly. So I think about how I might feel if Azula is on that drill. Not good. She’s bound to be angry. She’s bound to have excessively obsessively trained to vent her frustrations and hurt feelings at the loss of her two friends.

Realistically, if she finds us on that drill, she’ll try to kill us. And if that’s the case, then I will have to be ready to do the same, in order to stay alive.

She won’t be alone.

But I won’t be, either. And that entire drill is powered by steam. I’ll have access to water from everywhere, so long as I keep a feel out for where the steam pipes are.

We will live. And someone else will die today.

I shift into a stretch.

Gorou gets up. “This might turn into a bloodbath if they have an army in there.”

He doesn’t sound particularly scared. He means that we are going to be the ones doing the slaughtering.

“It might. But it’s best if we’re stealthy before finding the engine room. The priority is the drill. We can fight the Fire Nation soldiers afterwards,” I say, moving to another position.

“Hm,” he agrees. “You’re not even wearing armour.”

I look down at my brown shirt, loose trousers and sturdy boots. “Yeah. Not much I can do.”

He scoffs. Then he shoves his hands into the ground, elbow-deep. He comes up with a large rock. Then he bends it into forearm bracers and a chest plate. He doesn’t wait for permission as he takes first my left arm, then my right and bends the things in place. They’re divided into fine moveable segments, heavy, but not too bad and still flexible.

“Thanks,” I say, surprised.

He grunts. Then he secures the chest plate. I continue my stretches, testing the fit. “It digs in here too much,” I tell him tapping where it edges my shoulder.

He carves that part away.

“Thanks.”

Seems like Gorou doesn’t want me to die.


	28. The Drill

The drill is huge. It’s as tall as a six-storied building. A metal monstrosity headed straight for the wall. from up there, it must be less intimidating. But up close… you can feel the ground shake.

I doubt the City Guard will be able to turn it aside properly. That’s a little concerning. But we knew we’d be facing bad odds when we came out here. Better here than fighting near civilians. Refugees who have seen their fair share of war already. Technically, I am a civilian. But no bender really is just that.

“This is on us,” I tell Gorou, who nods. His face is doing the bloodthirsty thing that scares me a little every time I see it. Then again, all my friendly neighbourhood yakuza are wearing a variation of it. maybe this is the kind of thing you need to be good at in order to become a member. Face the Fire Nation with a plan, explosives and enough weapons to kill an army with. Incidentally, that’s probably what we’re going up against. They’ve come to invade Ba Sing Se, after all. That’s not the sort of thing one does with only a hundred soldiers.

It’s a good thing the Pah joined us. It’s an even better thing that we have explosives. This should not be a reassuring thought: organised crime with explosives.

We follow the plan: locate the entrances, which are indeed on the underside of the drill. It does have metal claws that dig deep into the ground to propel the drill onwards. That is where we can get inside, through the operating hatches. They’re not even locked up. Which is odd because the drill is meant to withstand earthbenders. Who can easily do what we are.

We split up the fighters and explosive experts evenly, with a crossbow-user each. Up close and from below, feeling the earth tremble beneath its force, the drill is gigantic. It is easy enough to figure out that if we take out enough support beams near enough to one another, the drill will crack open with a precise attack from the outside. The drill is made of two tubes, really. One outer shell that is supported by thick metal beams from the inside, arranged like the spokes of a wheel with a thick hub that is where all the walkways are and the engine operates.

I really have to destroy the engine. That’s close to the only chance we’ve got. When I say as much, everyone nods.

“We’re not waiting with setting the explosives,” Yranna decides, barely audible over the noise of the earth grinding. “We can see how its built from here and its so big it would take too long to communicate.”

Take out enough spokes and the wheel crumples. Same principle.

No one contests her. We need to get a move on.

“We’re not locating the command centre, either,” Dionu says. “We can’t chance discovery like that before Kaito destroys the engine. And once he does, there’s little point in taking out commanders.”

The drill is not empty. It’s an exercise in stealth as we find our way to the engine room. It is, thankfully in the middle, as we suspected. We place our cloth balls along the way, but we decide not to take any soldiers down until we have the structural plans of the drill and I have sabotaged the engine. We’re just not taking chances.

But that is easily done. The drill’s walkways are eerily quiet. Probably the soldiers are waiting where they will be deployed from the side hatches that we saw coming in. And those we do evade, we easily sidestep by getting on the support beams.

It’s really only a matter of damaging the vital parts of the steam engine. Not even an engineer is in sight. All I do is slice apart the fiddly bits and open all the hatches to let the steam out. Then I bend it to cling to my stone armour and also my boots. Gorou had the right idea.

We’re on our way to the front to meet Yranna, Thera and two of the explosion experts when in the back of the drill, an explosion goes off. It sends harsh groans through the metal. It’s too early. They must have gotten interrupted, setting the kits.

Our footsteps, though soft, are too loud on the metal floor. We pause on our way to block more of the communication pipes. I’m out of cloth balls. Soon, Gorou and Dionu are as well.

And then, where I estimate is a third down the front of the drill, footsteps alert us to enemy soldiers coming our way from behind.

We duck outside into the support beam area at the next doorway, like we did to evade enemy soldiers on our way in. We can surprise them from behind. On the next beam to the front, I see a still body in Fire Nation uniform. At least it’s not one of our people.

The drill groans, and the beam beneath our feet shakes with the force of the impact on the side we’re standing on. We stumble a little, just as the enemy is going past. It’s a matter of split-seconds where Gorou sends his tattoo-disks flying for a beheading and blue fire is shot our way. That means most likely Azula. I did not miss her.

I yank Dionu and Gorou behind me, cutting the flames aside with water from the air. Then, before we can be attacked again, I get a grip for the fluids inside the mouths of our two opponents and yank.

“Ow! Fuck!” a man swears.

Azula only grunts in pain. Then she ducks, evading Gorou’s attack again. But he’s found his feet and keeps her on the move. She’s good enough to send attacks even while dodging, but those are easy to block for Dionu who brought armour like Gorou made for me, only covering his whole body. This leaves me free to try to regain my grip on the man’s spit, but before I can, he shows that he’s a firebender, too.

Which is unfortunate for us, but nothing we can’t handle. His flames are a nice, normal organe.

It’s just too much actual moving around on his part that keeps me from his body fluids. I need to practise more. But who’d volunteer for that? Which sounded just as wrong as it probably is.

But I gather moisture from the air, there is enough of it, and I brought a waterskin for emergencies. Then I begin to slice at him in places where the armour is weak. Which is the neck. The armpits. He wears a helmet, which is sensible.

But it doesn’t save him from letting blood.

He retreats back into the inner tube, a hand on his neck, staving off the bleeding.

Azula sends a particularly strong blast at us. I coat the beam with ice, and trap her feet for the few moments necessary for Gorou to send his other disk at her. She bends out of the way just in time to save her head, but that allows me to trap her, folding ice around her limbs even as she melts it. Now it is a battle of how quickly I can cool the water and she can melt it. She looks about to roar flames at us.

Thankfully, Dionu forms a rock-ball and uses it to knock her out.

Gorou makes to kill her, but the other firebender sends a large blast at us with a yell.

We duck, just in time, but he’s already dragged Azula inside the tube with him. Seems like he managed to close the wound, probably with a little fire. That must have hurt. He didn’t make a sound while he did it. I sniff the air. Yeah. That’s definitely burnt flesh.

When we rush in, the corridor is empty.

Great.

“Let’s move on,” Dionu says, wary.

And we do. Gorou guards the back.

None of us notice the archer before she’s loosed the arrow that punches through Gorou’s shoulder. He goes to one knee, Dionu and I whirl.

She retreats before my water reaches her or Dionu’s own disk.

“Guard us,” I say and crouch next to Gorou. Dionu covers, and knocks several more arrows aside.

I bend water around the wound and freeze it, keeping a grip and breaking off the arrow. It’s gone right through. I seal off the wound. It didn’t nick major blood vessels. We don’t have time for more treatment.

Three explosions go off in front of us. Then Yranna, Thera and the explosion experts crash into the corridor. We dash towards them. “We need to get out of here!” Dionu shouts.

Yranna leads the way.

It’s really good to have competent allies. None of them are injured badly, aside from a burn on Thera’s calf. But she doesn’t limp, so it must be alright.

It is, aside from knocking a few arrows out of the air, and Thera returning fire as quickly as she is able while running, a smooth exit.

Dionu digs us down and out. “Can you fight?” he asks Gorou.

“Yes,” he bares his teeth. Looks eager.

We emerge. The Fire Nation tanks are getting destroyed, one by one. The Pah are doing good work, joined by Dionu’s benders. Yranna heads towards Latih. “I’m going to tell them where to focus the attack!”

And we go and join the fray. Outside of the metal, Gorou and Dionu are much more versatile with their bending. I never want to face benders in their natural territories. They’re just too scary. And some people are just scary all the time, I think as I watch Yranna behead a man in passing.

I am free to freeze the few still-moving tanks, slicing apart the joints like butter once they’re cold enough. The Fire Nation builds them to withstand heat from the benders inside. Not ice attacks from waterbenders.

The drill, finally out of steam, rumbles to a stop.

Yranna and Latih coordinate the attack on the drill’s weak point. The first huge bolt of earth makes a dent. They prepare for a second when a side hatch opens. It’s Azula again. Thera is ready, and fires.

Azula dodges the crossbow bolt just so, but she zeroes in on our group. With two huge fire attacks, she propels herself at us.

I let Dionu and Gorou handle her for the most part. We’re surrounded by their element, after all.

The last tank goes down. I freeze the hatch shut. It’s good to have someone to interrogate. The City Guard will pick them up.

The second earth bolt pierces the drill’s hull with a mighty crash. They pin the drill, the bolt exits the hull on the other side.

A cheer goes through the yakuza and the City Guard, who look relatively battered. They would’ve been dead if not for our interference.

Azula shouts, frustrated, “Retreat!”

But she herself sends a bolt of lightening straight at us. I know the bending pattern by now, so I manage to intercept, using the ice on my armour as a shield just in front of Gorou. The lightning cracks it down the middle. It’s a good thing I remembered to connect the shield to the ground.

The hind part of the drill opens. It reveals a train-like thing. The Fire Nation soldiers who still can, rescue themselves into it as quickly as they can. But the yakuza take no prisoners. A lot of the soldiers die during their retreat.

Gorou was right. It is a bloodbath.

And I didn’t even really do that much.

.

The yakuza groups and I are quick to return to the hill we used as sleeping stead before the City Guard can attempt to take us in. The part of the team that went to the back of the drill don’t return. “Do you want us to return to look for them?” I ask Dionu quietly.

His face is drawn and tired. “Latih already promised to look for us. The City Guard is doing a sweep and she wanted a quick look at what the Fire Nation brought to invade Ba Sing Se with.”

And true to his words, Latih and five of her people exit the hill, none more than superficially injured.

We retreat. Somewhere beneath the great wall, I remove the arrow shaft from Gorou’s shoulder. Then I patch him up. A full recovery will take a while.

We move on and make another stop for the other injured, but the worst are some light burn wounds. Thera’s the worst. “It’ll scar, but probably not hamper your movement.”

“Thanks,” she grins down at me where I’m crouched. I look up to judge her tone.

A slow grin spreads across my face. “You’re very welcome.”

.

I have just finished speaking with Professor Singh about those student teachers. He said he’d ask around, but his tone didn’t indicate anything hopeful. That was, until I mentioned that those students who did come to teach would get to study the plans of the drill that had found their way into my hands. He was very eager then. And hurried off to press some students into mostly unpaid labour.

“Hey!” Smellerbee calls as the trio approach. “There you are!”

“Here I am,” I say, smiling a bit. She’s kind of endearing, in an excited sort of way.

“I have a few questions for you,” Jet says, and it’s a very aggressive way that he says that in. He seems like the sort of person who has only two settings: angry or plotting. Anything beyond that would mean admitting that he’s hurt inside and needs a little love.

“Well, that is what I’m here for,” I say and lead them to some of the newly vacated cushions of the lecture room. “What did you want to know?”

“How can you trust them even though they’re Fire Nation?” Jet accuses.

He’s not subtle. A few heads are turned our way and people are beginning to openly listen to an interesting conversation. Gossips.

“I can trust them because they are helping here. I can trust them because they were forced to flee from the Fire Nation as well. I can trust them, because they are wanted and I have seen the posters. I can trust them because if I can’t trust them, then I can’t trust that there are people in the Fire Nation who do not agree with the war. I can trust them because they are no more dangerous than myself,” I list and I can see it doesn’t satisfy him. “You know… we’ll never get anywhere without a little leap of faith. Without a little trust. I’m not trusting them with my life. Just that they teach what they know in a way that people can understand and analyse.”

He harrumphs. And that makes me laugh. “We’re not expecting them to be perfect or to not miss their home. It was home. I’m expecting the people they teach to see that no situation is simple, or entirely good or evil. Everything, when you look closer, is more complicated. All I’d ask of you, Jet, is that you listen without the picture you’ve made of them in their head. Parts of them may match it. parts of them do not. Pay attention. It’ll be worth it.”

He looks about to leave, but Smellerbee asks “Are you going to talk about the Fire Nation’s invasion of the Northern Watertibe now?”

“Yes. We will also have a round of questions afterwards.”

And so I hold the lecture on the invasion. Why the Moon turned red.

Once I have answered some of the more obvious questions, people begin to lag slightly. Attention is waning. Which is good because I am exhausted.

“Why did you lay all those traps in the bay, if you had that wall?” one middle-aged man asks, perhaps a Ba Sing Se native who hasn’t heard of the drill yet.

I set out to explain in a clear, professional tone. “What we were aiming at was to make sure those ships never got to the city wall itself. The Fire Navy has so-called ice breakers, which can do exactly what they’re named for. They also, as I mentioned, had catapults. They look like this,” I tap one of the large drawings behind me that we made for the course on the Fire Nation’s methods of warfare. “They caused extensive structural damage. We also did not want a siege. You cannot survive in the North on just what you find in the surrounding lands because it is ice. So the Fire Navy had to be defeated and the battleground was going to be of our choosing. If that meant sinking those ships, then we would. If it meant encasing them in ice, then we would. Just like the City Guard here will bury enemy soldiers alive, if it means they are incapacitated and cannot escape.”

“What are the lands surrounding the City like?” a young woman asks. Off topic, but interesting.

“You can imagine them as deserts of ice. Scarcely anything grows there. The lands are dangerous. If you’re not careful and don’t know what it looks like, you might break through the ice beneath your feet and drown in a lake. It takes only seconds for your muscles to freeze. If you don’t have a bender who can rescue you, you’re very likely to die,” I explain. “So, since we didn’t want the civilian population to have to flee or fight in the City, we made sure the Fire Navy remained in the bay.”

“Except for that ship with the Admiral,” a man says with crossed arms.

“Yes. Except for that.”

“Well, how does this Spirit thing work?” he asks. “You said the Princess gave her life to save the Spirit of the Moon. But how does that work?”

Yes. How does it work. No idea. No particular desire to find out. Yue’s gone and there is no way to get her back. “Ah. I am not someone who has directly communicated with that particular Spirit. As I understand it, which is in itself a strange legend, Princess Yue was stillborn. Her parents prayed to the Spirits to save her. They would not typically engage in this way in the world like they did then. But they saved her life. Yue returned what was given to her when she sacrificed herself for Tui, the Moon Spirit.”

It is silent for some time, and I almost think no one has any more questions. But then Momo asks lowly, “Did you know the Princess?”

I must not have sounded very professional there. “We were friends.”

And that is that.

“If that is all, then I invite you to discuss what you heard amongst yourselves. I will be available for more questions next week.”

.

AANG

There’s a knock on the door. Aang sure hopes it’s not Ju Di again, they didn’t put up more Wanted Posters of Appa, so he doesn’t get why they should have to talk to her again. It’s not that Aang didn’t consider it, but he doesn’t know what would happen if they did. He wants to. Because he doesn’t know how to best look for Appa in a city this big without help.

He misses Appa. He’s the last piece of home Aang has, aside from his glider and that’s just not the same.

Sokka goes to open the door because it’s his turn.

“Hello, Sokka,” Aang knows that voice. He’s missed that voice.

“You- Kaito!” Aang can hear the gape in Sokka’s voice and jumps up to greet their friend.

If Kaito’s here-

Aang bursts into the entrance hall to see Kaito and Sokka hugging. He’s prepared to attach himself to both of them when they let go of each other. Kaito catches Aang, spins him. It makes him laugh because it feels funny when he’s not bending, to fly like this.

He’s set down too soon, but Aang can see Kaito smile at him this way, eyes warm and crinkling in the corners. “Hello, Aang.”

They step inside and move to the living room where there is only Momo because Katara and Toph are having a girls’ day or whatever.

“How come you’re here already?” Sokka asks, “I was sure that it takes more than a bit over two months to get here from Omashu.”

Aang remembers him saying something like that. Vaguely. Maybe. He wasn’t listening much, he realises guiltily. He was just so worried about Appa…

“It does, but I took a boat, so that cut the journey more than in half. There was a storm and it pushed us straight into Chamaeleon Bay. Here,” Kaito answers, and produces a sealed scroll. Aang has seen one just like it before. Shame washes over him again. “This is for you and Katara from your father. He’s doing well. He got along with Pakku, did you know? Which is probably good if Pakku is asking your grandmother for her hand in marriage again.”

Sokka says “Thanks,” and his voice is full of emotion. It’s homesickness, Aang realises now. Because he sounds the same way, all choked up, when it comes to Appa these days.

Kaito also takes out a folded piece of paper. “I also found this,” he unfolds it. it’s one of the flyers. “That’s how I got your address. You really need to be more careful next time with letting people know where you are. But anyway, the Ju Di division was trying to get rid of them all. We managed to save some and we’re keeping them circulating, so don’t worry, it wasn’t for nothing. We’re going to find Appa.”

Relief washes through Aang. That’s good. That’s something. Kaito always manages something.

“The Ju Di division?” Sokka asks after sending Aang a smile.

“They’re part of the Dai Li. That’s the not-so-secret police here. They control the information flow and they arrest people who make too much trouble, like mentioning the war, the Fire Nation or the Avatar. Then the arrested people come back, and it’s like they’re different people who don’t remember a thing about any of that,” Aang feels a shiver go down his spine.

“Yeah. It’s messed up. But a few allies and I are working on spreading more information and getting people access to better education. A lot of the people in the lower ring can’t read. We’ve set up four schools so far, one of them for adults. It’s hard to keep the Dai Li away, but we’ve managed. And we’re also working on a plan to make sure the Dai Li can’t brainwash people any more… Did you know that there was a new Fire Nation attack on the wall just a few days ago?”

Aang pauses to take in all the new information. Schools? That’s great!

“Yeah, we were watching the whole thing from on top of the wall,” Sokka confesses. “Wait a minute, you were there, weren’t you?”

Kaito chuckles. “Ah, you got me.”

“It looked. Really bloody down there,” Aang says. He can’t help himself. It’s. He doesn’t like it. Was that what the temples looked like? All that red. Visible from even so high up.

“It was,” Kaito says, frowning. “Better out there than in here. I don’t even want to imagine the death count if they had gotten through the wall.”

“Yeah…” Sokka says.

They’re all silent for a few more moments. That’s war. Is that what Omashu looked like? After Aang left with Sokka, Katara, Appa and Momo?

Then Sokka asks: “So the Dai Li is brainwashing people. How do we stop them? Do you think they know where Appa is?”

“Well. We know where their base is, more or less. But we need a few more earthbenders to help us go up against the Dai Li. If we’re going to fight them underground, then I want allies with me who can use the place to their advantage just as well. I don’t know how the brainwashing works exactly. But… I figure just taking down the leaders has to be enough until the entire organisation can be dismantled. The Earthking isn’t going to be much help. My contacts at the University said he’s more of a… puppet king than anything. And if there is an organisation that knows where Appa is in this city, it’s the Dai Li.”

“Sounds like we’ve got some recruiting to do,” Sokka says. “Since one does not simply pop in to see the Earthking.”

“Where do we start?” Aang asks, ignoring Sokka’s mockery of Ju Di. If he can motivate people to help because he’s the Avatar, then he’s going to use that.

“Let me introduce you to my allies first. We’re negotiating with a few others and I need to consult Dionu and Yranna before we do something drastic, like use your influence. I need to know if that’s going to pull with the people we want on side.”

“Sounds complicated,” Aang says.

“Yeah,” Kaito laughs, and only he really laughs in the face of such problems. Aang certainly doesn’t. “Politics always is. Especially when you’re trying to move things in a more democratic direction at the same time.”

Toph would scoff at that. But she’d understand what was going on anyway. The Airnomads never had such complicated relationships as the people here. He feels a pang of homesickness again. It scrapes against his lungs.

“Democratic?” Sokka asks. Aang focusses back on the conversation.

“That’s when the ruling class is everyone, not just someone who was born in a palace. People make their own decisions and vote on important issues. For that to work well, you need a more than decent education system and an easy way to vote. Where it’s also not just the majority vote that wins, but on important issues, it has to be three thirds. It would also have multiple representatives for each district in the rings. As for how things work out when there aren’t so many people who can be exploited anymore, I’m curious to see what systems will be set up, so that we can still feed the population and provide the means for education at the same time…”

Kaito sighs, and then he grins at Sokka and Aang who’re looking pretty dumbstruck. Kaito is doing all that? But… that sounds a lot like the Airnomads did things. Everyone got a say, and everyone looked out for the others.

“Anyway, I think I can bring you by Dionu’s bakery tomorrow, if you’re free. We could look at the school then, too.”

Aang nods, that sounds good. He’s curious to meet the people who are helping Kaito.

“So do you want to show me how well your facebending’s been coming along?”

.

KAITO

It ends up with Aang and me soaking wet, Sokka laughing, but not for long. Then I have him show me how much he’s improved with the sword.

And it’s when he’s almost disarmed me, that Katara and an unfamiliar figure enter the backyard.

“Go Sokka!” the girl cheers.

He falters, and I use the opening he provides to disarm him.

“Aw man!” he whines, “I almost had you!”

“You did,” I admit and extend my hand for the forearm clasp that signals the reconciliation after the spar. “Next time, you’ll beat me. Maybe Yranna will have some time to show you some more tricks when I introduce you tomorrow.”

“How about an introduction now?” the girl prompts.

“Ah, Toph, this is Kaito. Kaito, this is Toph, she’s Aang’s earthbending teacher!” Katara introduces.

“Right,” she says, crossing her arms. “And how do you know him?”

“He travelled with us from the Northern Watertribe.”

“And he taught me facebending!”

“Facebending, Twinkle Toes? Are you sure he wasn’t pulling your nose?”

“I certainly wasn’t,” I cut in, “Hello, Toph. It’s nice to meet you. Hello, Katara.”

“He really wasn’t, look!” and before I can stop him, Aang cuts a grimace and sends a splash of water their way. Small, but about to ruin their makeup. So I intercept.

“Now, Aang,” I admonish, “Don’t go around ruining people’s makeup. You can show them later. Maybe, to really impress Toph, you could try earthbending with your face.”

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Right.”

“So what was that about introducing Sokka to someone who can show him a few tricks?” Katara asks, stepping closer.

“Kaito’s working to overthrow the Dai Li and he’s gathering allies. And he thinks that they have something to do with Appa’s disappearance because the Dai Li has a Ju Di division who try to control the flow of information in Ba Sing Se. They tried to collect all of the flyers you had printed, so…” Sokka explains. “He’s going to introduce us tomorrow, if you haven’t got anymore plans to go to get your makeup done.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” I tell him, “It can feel really nice to have someone massage your face.”

He gapes a little.

“Also, who doesn’t like massages?” I add. “That’s just weird.”

“Wha- you’re weird!”

“Me?”

“I can already tell,” Toph cuts in, “That you’re going to be fun to have around, Mr Facial.”

It sets me laughing and Sokka, too, although he’s going beet-red. “Toph!” Katara exclaims.

Aang looks like he doesn’t get what’s going on. He’s too young. I can’t read Toph. So I hope she made that joke in all innocence. She’s smug, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.

.

ZUKO

Uncle gave him some extra money with the words, “Go take Mai somewhere nice. And comb your hair!”

Like Zuko doesn’t take care of his personal hygiene.

Well. He asked Mai where she wanted to go because these days he can’t be sure of much, except for ‘no fish’ and by now he thinks it’s hers and Kaito’s way of saying goodbye. He’s kind of curious how Kaito makes the fish if it’s become like that. Anyway, Mai smiled when Zuko did ask her where she’d like to go, so that was the right choice. He refuses to acknowledge how proud he feels about that.

So here they are and for some reason, Zuko is nervous. Normally, they can talk easily, but Mai looks really beautiful, hair done up and for once, she’s missing the Watertribe necklace. It bothers Zuko more than it should, he realises. He just. Doesn’t like Kaito that much and Mai is. His girlfriend. So.

But he doesn’t know if it’s too soon to offer a replacement.

He. That would be like saying they can build a life together here, in Ba Sing Se. And…

Uncle would like that.

Zuko just… doesn’t. So he doesn’t want to make any promises.

But Mai is beautiful, and cool, and smart and… He just likes her. She makes his heart jump against his breastbone, and he can just talk to her because she knows where he comes from, who he is. He doesn’t have to pretend with her.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Mai observes, fiddling with her cup.

“I- it’s just… You look so nice,” he blurts finally, not knowing what to say.

But it seems like the right thing because Mai blushes and it’s- Zuko likes her blush.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “So what did you think of my lesson plans?”

And that. Is one of the points where she impresses him and makes him question everything he knows. Because she found so many rituals and phrases that are – according to her and Kaito, propaganda. It serves, they say, to encourage a militaristic mentality, to perpetuate the belief that the Fire Lord is a god among men, which makes it seem like he can do no wrong. And if he can’t, Mai said to him one night, bluntly, his hand in hers, then what he did to Zuko wasn’t wrong either and she disagrees.

“They’re very structured. And easily understood,” he says. “But I’ve heard all the- the rituals before, so maybe you should speak to someone who hasn’t if they understand you.”

He’s not ready to confront all of this yet. But Mai just. Sets it all before him, lays it out. She even put in how firebending training is specifically structured to foster competition. And that puts Azula, in their childhood, in another light. He still can’t believe that she lost her memory, burned two guards to a crisp, escaped with Kaito and after being captured by pirates somehow regained her memory. It’s not something he’d believe if it weren’t Mai telling him all this.

“Yes, you’re right,” she agrees and smiles at him again. “So I heard from Mushi that…”


	29. Pre-heating the Oven

ZUKO

“… He was offered an opportunity to open up a teashop in the Upper Ring because some noble liked the tea he makes.”

And isn’t it strange how Mai says ‘some noble’ like she’s not still one herself? Zuko knows generals or valuable merchants sometimes receive honours in the form of lesser noble titles – but that is what they are, titles. They don’t mean much. Mai is of one of the oldest families supporting the Royal Line. She will always be noble by birth and that is what counts.

“Yes. I think we might be moving in a week or so. Uncle is very eager,” Zuko affirms, thinking of how much more time Uncle and Kaito are spending at that school, plotting. His uncle, lover of tea and Pai Sho, man who has left behind his title as Prince of the Fire Nation to be with Zuko, is plotting to educate the masses so they may one day govern themselves. It’s… an absurd concept. Peasants politicking? They wouldn’t know the first thing about diplomacy, etiquette or the logistics of governing a country, much less a city of Ba Sing Se’s proportions.

Uncle can be an absurd man.

And he’s found equally absurd people to conspire with. It is, to Zuko, slightly terrifying. He’s not stupid, after all. He knows what that could mean for him, if his identity were ever revealed. And he knows what Kaito thinks about him, exiled Prince of the Fire Nation, pretending to be Lee. It’s in the way the man looks at Zuko. Kaito thinks Zuko is naïve and a little stupid to still be thinking that one day, he can return. He can. The Avatar exists. Zuko had him at the North Pole. He had him, and he would have-

Mai nods and frowns. “It will be harder to meet for us then. Kaito moves between Rings so easily because of the University pass he got for giving his account of the Invasion of the Northern Watertribe.”

“He doesn’t even tell everything,” Zuko mutters, not intending for it to be heard.

But Mai has sharp ears. “No. But if it were your home, would you?” she pauses. “Well. If you wanted to still protect it. I’m not sure that… But we were talking about how I can still visit you when you’re in another Ring.”

She’s right, of course, about the information. What did Uncle like to say when they would play Pai Sho? Know your enemy and you have won half the battle. But the Fire Nation is. It’s. Zuko doesn’t know. It’s home and it’s not. It’s what he’s wanted for so long that he doesn’t know how to stop or if he wants to try.

“Maybe, if you became one of Uncle’s employees. People would prefer their tea to be served by you rather than me,” he suggests.

Mai laughs, not really taking the offer seriously, which is irritating. “Depends on how much he’d pay me.”

They wouldn’t have to worry about the money back home. He doesn’t voice the thought because he knows Mai would look at him, sad and a little angry. She would say that she’s not sure she’d want money if it meant people worked twice as hard to feed her, clothe her, allow her to afford luxuries that she doesn’t need. She would say that she now sees shame in making others work for her. She is ashamed of her own past ignorance and lack of empathy.

Zuko knows because he’s heard her say it. It was to Ty Lee, but he knows all the same.

He doesn’t know how to tell her that he still wants-

“I’m sure it would be better than what you get from that seamstress,” he says instead, realising he was silent for too long.

“I don’t know,” she says, “Doesn’t he have to get in business first before he can pay well?”

“As I understood it, that noble will give him enough to pay good wages even in the beginning. But he’s got to pay it off and the noble will own part of the business.”

“Ah,” she says. “How much of the business?”

“Twenty percent.”

“And he still has to pay it off?”

Zuko nods, reading in her expression that she thinks it’s too much. She’s probably heard Kaito say often enough that no profiteering is legitimate if the one making the profit doesn’t directly contribute to the production or selling or whatever else the business needs. Zuko’s even heard him say that it could be possible to own businesses collectively without somebody to lend money or profit off of labour that is not their own, if enough people believed in the idea.

Uncle had nodded along with his serious face on.

Zuko can’t really explain the betrayal he felt at that. The kind of instinctive recoil he’d had to suppress. That sort of thing would only end in a big mess.

Mai takes his hand. The thrill he feels at that chases away the bad mood that was settling in on him.

.

TOPH

Toph observes the way Aang grows steadily more excited as the morning progresses. Twinkle Toes sure likes the idea of a school for everyone. He also likes Kaito a hell of a lot. If Toph couldn’t sense the way Kaito never lied, and always easily allowed Aang close, she’d be more wary. She still is, but not that much. This guy was mentioned in every other conversation the others had had since she met them.

But the older boy – more of a man, really, and it’s strange to think that of a person not much older than Sokka… Toph thinks briefly of Sokka and her, ah, crush and wonders if she’d ever realised that however… erm, _cool_ Sokka is (not), however smart he is, and however often he actually saves her life – keeping her grounded on Appa’s back or saving her from drowning… Sokka is sixteen and somehow, next to Kaito, it shows. She never thought she’d even care, but…

(In the back of her mind, a voice that sounds placidly like her mother – who would never actually say that to Toph’s face – whispers ‘You just want to distract yourself from your failures, Toph. It’s alright. You’re just a little blind girl, what did they expect? What did you expect?’

It’s not like that. It wasn’t like that and thinking about it won’t make it any better, so.)

Toph feels weird thinking about boys, and she feels weird when she thinks about voicing her thoughts – because to whom would she talk? Katara is Sokka’s brother. They… they can talk more easily now than they used to. Ba Sing Se means that Katara doesn’t have to worry about food too much or who does which chore. Toph knows Katara’s a worrier, but there’s no point in worrying. There’s also no point in waiting for the Earthking to have time for the Avatar, but they’re doing something, thanks to Kaito.

Ba Sing Se also means a better focus, and if she’s honest, having a real trail for Appa has helped.

She. Toph hates feeling powerless and weak. (There was too much of that before bending. Even too much of it while being capable and having to pretend for her parents.)

And she’s been carrying that ever since the sandbenders stole Appa.

So, she practises. And she listened carefully to Kaito’s heartbeat when he spoke about finding Appa. It’s good to have help. It’s good to have someone they can count on. Aang certainly does. Sokka does, too, but in a different way. Where Kaito acts more like an elder sibling to Aang that neither Sokka nor Katara really do because Aang so clearly can take care of himself- even if he is too naïve for his own good, Toph can see how Kaito slotted with the group before they met her.

Even Katara trusts him and by the Spirits, did Toph have a hard time convincing her that she didn’t need to be mothered. She could see how with someone older and so clearly mature around, Katara would relax a bit. It’d be nice, that.

But there’s no point in wondering about that, either. He might come with them wherever they go next, or not.

So she concentrates on what she can do now, as they wait. The sand feels too loose for Toph. It’s not that she can’t get a grip or move it, it’s that it shifts around, slides and trickles and it makes everything fuzzy.

But just because something is hard Toph is not about to give up.

She’s focusing so hard that the sudden shout of “Kaito’s here! Let’s go!” startles her enough to send the sand she was bending everywhere. Toph sighs. But then she notices it.

The scattered grains on the smooth stone tiles, she can pick them out.

She’s been trying to move the sand like one mass – that’s what it is, but also-

If she focuses, she can pick out each grain individually. Maybe that’s the way to go.

“Toph! Come on,” Katara calls from the front door.

Grumbling, Toph gets up. She’ll just have to do it later. That’s when she notices that Kaito isn’t alone. She comes to the foyer and feels the new person out. As tall as Kaito, but stockier, and more tense.

“Good morning, Toph,” Kaito greets. Toph sure has heard drawls enough for her lifetime, growing up where she did, but he somehow makes it sound genuinely friendly, which she thinks is weird. But then, he’s a pretty weird guy.

“This is Gorou,” he introduces, “A friend and ally, even if he’s not the friendly sort.”

Gorou shifts, looks at Kaito and asks “What kind of introduction is that?”

“An accurate one?” Kaito replies and ducks the casual swipe at his head. Seems like an established routine.

“I’m plenty friendly,” he says and then actually hits Kaito in the upper arm.

“Ow,” Kaito deadpans, even though he rubs the spot, so it must’ve hurt at least a little. “You’re just proving my point here.”

Then, too fast for Gorou to dodge, Kaito pulls on the man’s bun of hair at the back of his head.

“Right,” Toph says, before they can actually start a brawl. She can’t believe she thought Kaito was mature. “Let’s go, Friendly and Friendlier, before you hurt yourselves.”

Both of them laugh, good-natured, easily letting the moments of teasing pass. There is none of the posturing that many young men engage in. nothing between them that needs to be proven. Toph wonders what that might be like. To not prove. To just be enough. To just be good enough naturally.

“Alright, don’t want to keep our host waiting,” Kaito says. They all follow him outside to walk to the station.

“So who are we meeting anyway?” Aang asks, sliding into place next to Kaito, closer than he tends to walk to anyone else, Toph notes. She can’t read expressions, so she must read tones and body language and that’s blatant. The only other person Aang would get that close to is probably Katara.

In response, Kaito puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to whisper low enough for nobody else to hear. Toph thinks that with Aang’s reaction she sure would have liked to hear it.

.

DIONU

Kaito has brought along a bunch of brats. Into the bakery. _Into_ the bakery. Which is not actually a bakery. They’re in his office, all of them, crammed in like sardines and happy to do it.

Dionu always knew the man was insane, unhinged, and too trusting – he’s made Gorou his second! But this. This is just-

“He didn’t know we were coming, did he?” the older girl asks. Watertribe, by the look of her, though neither the boy nor her look like they’re related to Kaito. Not, that they have to, to be family or something.

“No, I did not,” Dionu says and glares at Kaito who smiles at him like there’s nothing wrong, from _Dionu’s side of the desk_. No respect. Where’s the serious, competent man of a few days ago? Where is the man who stared down Marina and got what he wanted?

“I wanted all my friends to meet,” Kaito says and Dionu’s face spasms.

“So, this is Dionu, the friendly neighbourhood baker,” he introduces and Dionu just gives up. He palms his face and goes along with it.

“Hello. We’re out of sweets.”

Kaito laughs and bumps his shoulder with his own, like they’re actually friends and Dionu just lets it happen because… he’ll get his revenge later. Somehow. Yranna will help him.

“Dionu, this is Sokka and Katara from my sister tribe in the south,” he gestures to the watertribe kids, then the blind girl, “And Toph from around somewhere in the Earthkingdom, I don’t know from where exactly. And Aang,” at that last one, he sweeps the hat they put on the kid off and Dionu’s blood runs cold. His eyes go wide.

He turns to Kaito, “What the fuck.”

“Language, Dionu. There are children present,” Kaito says and puts the hat on Dionu’s head instead of back where it belongs, covering up tattoos that are extinct, except for on this one boy.

Dionu reaches across his desk and puts it back on the arrowhead. Then he turns to Kaito, grasps his collar and yanks him close, growls, “Do you know. How dangerous. This is? Not just for me, but for them? What if the Dai Li followed you? What if someone tells them?”

Kaito nods. “It’s alright. Gorou is looking out for us and we came in underground. Toph assures me nobody can detect where we went through and that there was nobody around to sense it, since her range of detecting is bigger than Gorou’s and his is pretty much better than anyone else’s. We tested it on those agents, remember?”

The bastard looks perfectly comfortable in Dionu’s grip. Dionu shakes him to make him understand that it’s still serious! “Kaito. We need to have a conversation about acceptable risks-“

“Am I dreaming?” Katara asks. “Or is someone else finally lecturing him?”

“No, no, princess, what you see is what I hear. But you need to relax, boss,” Toph says, ‘boss’ like yakuza boss, oh what the fucking- “We were careful. Besides, nobody knows you operate from here, right? We were super stealthy.”

“Yeah!” the Avatar – the sprit-damned avatar! – pipes up, “Calm down, we were really careful!”

“We were like badger moles, only like ninja-badger-moles, so you can stop your cajole!”

Rhymes? Seriously? Bad ones, too.

“So,” Kaito says, patting Dionu’s hand which is still clenched in his tunic, “How about some tea?”

“I will wring your neck one day,” Dionu tells him as he lets him go.

“Lie,” Toph says. Smug little thing.

“Toph can detect your heartbeat and see if you lied,” the Avatar tells him, proud.

Dionu glares at them all.

.

TOPH

“The reason why the school hasn’t been shut down by the Dai Li already is because of the involvement of the nobles. They granted it legality and protection in the beginning by funding some of it and putting up work notices. Not, that they really understood that when we secured that funding,” Kaito explains without having been asked to.

Toph thinks he really likes telling people things when they are willing to listen.

As they approach the building, the street becomes more lively and there are people outside drinking tea and smoking without a teashop nearby. “Do you also serve tea there?”

Kaito laughs, “Yes, that’s Mushi’s influence. That man can’t stand it when there’s no tea to be had.”

Reminds her of another old man she met a few weeks ago. At the front entrance, Toph picks out raised voices from inside the crowd of people.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Toph follows Kaito’s smooth process through the crowd. Then he shouts, “What have I said about fighting in here, Mac, Nazar?”

They glare at each other, but have stopped shouting.

“So what’s the matter this time?” he asks.

“He’s a fucking coward, is what! We can’t break up the SOS later when the Storm’s over! We need to do it now!”

“And risk that everyone dies because the Others win while we’re divided?”

“FIRST OF ALL,” Kaito shouts, “No violence in here! Second, argue about this where you’re in private! The Dai Li needs ONE excuse and one only to shut us down. I don’t want any of us to give it to them.”

He takes the backs of their necks and thumps their foreheads together. They let him, without protest, rubbing the sore spots once he lets them go. “Nazar, Mac. Why don’t you hold your discussion like we talked about? I know you can do it without the name-calling.”

“But-“

“No. You know I’m right. You agreed last time. Has something about the political situation changed since then? Has our being watched changed since then?”

“That’s why we used the codes, like you said!”

Toph can feel Kaito sigh, “That’s nice. They’re just also really obvious. Think up better ones and don’t use them in so obvious a context. SOS, really?”

“What? It’s short and it summarises the urgency of the need to do something!”

“It would be good if you weren’t trying to keep all this secret. Whatever. Listen or don’t – but whatever you decide on-“

“Coordination and organisation,” they chorus and Kaito ruffles their hair. He’s said that too often.

“Go on, get.”

They scram, as does the crowd. “Does this happen often?” Katara asks, eyeing the people going back to their own business with curiosity.

“Yes. I wish I didn’t have to stop them. They should have a safe space for things like these – arguing, planning, fighting. But with the Dai Li around and spying on us from time to time it’s not an option.”

“Wow,” Sokka says from the wall, “These drawings are super detailed. How did you get engineering blueprints like this?”

Toph isn’t sure how impressed she should be. Sokka’s drawings are, according to Katara, awful. In this matter, Toph is willing to believe her.

“Yes, we’re quite proud of this. We call it the Wall of Engineering. One of the university students teaches technical drawing once a week.”

“And everyone gets to know this?”

“Yes, everyone with steady hands. You see, it’s a historical interest we have in these things and knowing how to repair things is always good,” his tone is that of a salesman and Toph understands that there’s a lot out in the open that they have to take care to present in a certain light. Although she would have thought that something like this would have been shut down long ago, with the Dai Li so paranoid. Maybe noble protection can do that much?

Or somebody is protecting this place from the Dai Li.

Toph considers who could have that power. Not the yakuza – because bakery? yeah, right. Not Kaito alone. Not the nobles alone. But all together? With all the people coming here every week? If they don’t want a revolt, it’s better for the Dai Li to shut it down with a ‘good reason’. Like fighting about the war openly.

But why is that bad?

Toph is so lost in thought that only the quiet discussion of Sokka and Kaito near her brings her out of it, because suddenly Katara and Aang are crowding in as well.

“The Earthking? Well, you can try talking to him,” Katio says, “But an invasion? You know fully well that the Fire Nation has star charts. If they know about the Moon Spirit, and the Comet then they know about the Solar Eclipse which is a central weakness to them.”

Sokka shakes his head. “I’ve thought about it. We can try to find out where the Fire Nation gets most of its resources for their army and navy. And we can hit them there, hard, if we manage to coordinate strikes with other armies. And Ba Sing Se means something. It would mean a lot if they were on our side. More people would join if they supported it.”

“You’d have to train up spies, quick,” Kaito says thoughtfully. “We’ve been getting everyone at the schools to register their name and place of origin to figure out how far along the front lines are and whose family is missing or has been taken prisoner. You know, in case someone is looking for someone.”

Sokka shifts and Toph thinks it’s into a more confident posture.

“Ba Sing Se has a bit of a problem coping with this many refugees. Who knows, maybe somebody could, ah, open up a training camp or something, for those who want to do more and can’t fight. But even with that, there’s the matter of the Dai Li. They can’t get in on it and the Earthking… well, he’s never left that palace. It would greatly surprise me if he had the breadth of understanding and empathy required to do what you suggest and leave it to people he doesn’t trust. There would have to be a general of his in charge, at least, and that limits anything you can do with those spies because who would trust somebody who didn’t care if they croaked before and only now wants help, especially the kind that is so dangerous?”

That’s. Well. Nobody’s ever said it like that to Toph before. That’s the reality for the people here, displaced and uncared for. Burdens, really, when they could be so much more, given the chance. Who would volunteer for something so dangerous when someone you didn’t trust on principle – or who disappointed you one too many times – was in charge?

“What if they were promised, like, that their families would be taken care of?” Katara suggests.

“Would you believe them?” Kaito asked, sounding tired. “If you had lost your home to the Fire Nation or betrayed the Fire Nation in some way and come to Ba Sing Se, only to be forced to live on the streets without help or food or medicine, no bending, the only thing you know is farming and then someone comes along and tells you, become a spy and we’ll take care of your family? You can’t fight. They can’t fight. You might do it out of desperation, but when you’re then trained to see patterns and find out information you can’t help but see- are they doing anything else here? Will they keep their promise if you die? How do you know they’ll get what was promised? How do you know that this suicide mission will pay off?”

“Suicide mission?” Aang asks, desolate.

“Unfortunately, yes. The likelihood of your discovery is great. Especially when you find out something important and try to get a message to the ones who sent you.”

“Could we do it without spies?” Sokka wondered, “Determine the most likely places? You said it could be possible that there are Fire Nation refugees here. They might know.”

Kaito lowered his voice. “There is one I will ask. He was quite high-ranking, really.”

Aang is relieved and so are the others.

But then- “You still need people to actually already be in place to set explosives and the like.”

Toph thinks, shit. “That’s definitely a suicide mission. The Eclipse lasts what, a few minutes?”

“Yes,” Kaito says and she can feel him looking at her. “And you’d only have a few months to train them _and_ get people in the right places. If you want them to have a way out, you need ships waiting and you need to make sure nobody gets captured or knows anything about anybody else. What they look like, where they’re going. They can’t know.”

Sokka sags. “So basically, it’s impossible.”

“I will talk to the man. The locations can still do us some good.”

It’s not a lie. But Toph thinks Kaito isn’t saying everything he intends to discuss with that man.

“Maybe we could talk to the Earthking about conditions in the lower ring anyway,” Katara suggests, her empathy showing again. “Get him to see that the people need help here.”

“Yeah, that’d be great! Then you could make even more schools like this!” Aang says, happy to think of something more positive.

“Well, what do you think he could do?” Kaito asks and it feels like a test.

“Build more shelters and places to live. That would also give some of them work, right? And once that’s done, we always need more food, so maybe employ more people as fishermen or something outside of Ba Sing Se. And, like, more teachers and stuff. And clothes? Trading routes need to be protected, right?” Sokka lists.

“If the Earthking listens, suggest it,” Kaito says, “But write it down, think every step through and then give that to him. Make a copy, too… Actually, you should come with me to the university tomorrow. I have something I want to talk about with one of the professors there and,” he whispers, “they have a printing press we could make use of. Make enough copies to distribute in every ring, in bookshops between the pages, in merchant stalls between wares, in every bag of bread.”

Oh. Toph can feel the excitement rise in the others and she’s not unaffected.

“Yes. Then he has to listen. Even his advisers have to listen,” Sokka says lowly, grinning.

So this is how you make a king do your bidding, Toph realises. Her father said to her once, finding her outside, ‘beware of what someone poor might do to you, Toph. You’re lucky if you’re held for ransom. That’s what the clever ones would do. But the smart ones,’ he said, ‘They would keep you and demand more and more and they would marry you when you were old enough. And then I would have to give either you up forever. Or I would have to give everything to a common man who knew what you represent.’

She rather thought, he’d have given her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toph is now a very politically aware, internally insecure twelve-year-old whose observations are very pointed to further the plot.


End file.
